


Ride

by lizwontcry



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: AU - post Rabid Dog, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, First Time, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Making Out, Porn With Plot, Slow Burn, Walter White is less of an asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:15:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/pseuds/lizwontcry
Summary: Don't leave me nowDon't say good byeDon't turn aroundLeave me high and dryRabid Dog AU. What would happen if Jesse went through with meeting Walt in the square?
Relationships: Jesse Pinkman & Walter White, Jesse Pinkman/Walter White
Comments: 66
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend and yours [ Porkchop_Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches) for giving this a looksie and for the valuable help and feedback.

_I've been out on that open road  
You can be my full time daddy, white and gold  
Singing blues has been getting old  
You can be my full time, baby  
Hot or cold _

__

__

Don't break me down  
I've been travelin' too long  
I've been trying too hard  
With one pretty song

 _I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast  
I am alone in the night  
Been tryin' hard not to get into trouble, but I  
I've got a war in my mind  
So, I just ride  
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride_

Ride - Lana Del Rey

  


_2002_

Every year it’s the same. Bored-looking students march into his classroom, seeming like they’d rather be anywhere else. There’s an occasional bright, enterprising student who takes an interest, raises their hand for every question, stays after class to engage Mr. White in conversation. That’s rare, though. Every year it’s the same, and every year he questions just a little bit more why he ever let Grey Matter get away from him, and why he chose to be in a profession with ungrateful kids, annoying internal politics, and a crappy paycheck.

Walt watches the students come in for his 2:30 PM Chemistry 101 class. These are freshmen, and some of them actually look like they want to learn something. They’ll probably lose that urge somewhere in between the middle and end of the semester, but at least he still has their attention for now.

He looks at the class roster as they file in. Luke Garcia, Annabeth Matthews, Charles Montgomery. Chelsea Pointer and Eric Mason; they look like they’ve been together since the third grade or something. Jesse Pinkman. This Mr. Pinkman looks like a troublemaker, Walt notices right away. He’s thin and a bit shorter than most of the other male students his age and he’s wearing ridiculously huge clothes for his small frame. His hair has frosted blonde tips and he looks like he could be in one of those boy bands that are so popular lately. And he just has that look on his face. The one that says he doesn’t have to be (or want to be) in this class, and he’s going to let Mr. White know all about it.

As always, Walt starts the class off by writing his name on the board. He’s obviously memorized this first lecture; it’s just easier to say the same thing every time so he doesn’t miss anything. Plus, he's not that creative.

“Chemistry. It’s the study of… what? Anyone?” Nobody even has a guess. Ah, so it’s going to be that kind of class.

“Mr. Mason, do you want to take a guess?”

Eric, who seemed as though he was counting the ceiling tiles, looks at him in surprise. “Oh, um… it’s the study of science kinds of things.”

“Hmm. While that is technically true, that’s not the answer I’m looking for, exactly.” Walt exhales before he continues. “Chemistry is the study of matter, but I prefer to see it as the study of change.”

Walt goes on to talk about electrons and molecules along with the visual effects he’s been demonstrating for years. This gets a little more of the class’s attention.

“It’s a cycle,” Walt continues. “It’s solution and dissolution over and over again. It’s growth, then decay, then transformation. I find it to be rather fascinating.”

Some students nod. Most of them look bored. Walt notices Jesse is doodling something in his notebook; it looks like a cartoon… of himself. A vaguely crude one, from what Walt can tell. It was also quite detailed and almost kind of impressive. 

“Mr. Pinkman, while I’m sure whatever you’re doing is more fascinating than the information you are currently receiving, can you please pay attention? This is not an art class.”

Jesse mumbles something, and the kids around him chuckle.

“What was that, Mr. Pinkman? I didn’t catch it.”

Jesse sighs, as though talking is a major chore for him. “Yo, I said that at least the art teacher doesn't put us to sleep in the first class...”

Walt frowns as some of the students laugh under their breath. So he’s the student Walt will have to keep his eye on this semester. There’s always one.

“Thank you for the honest critique, Mr. Pinkman. Now, let’s review ionic bonds.”

When the class is mercifully over, Walt watches as everyone leaves. A few students clap Jesse on the back, like they’re proud of his insolence. Well, whatever. Life as a teacher. He checks his watch, and almost groans as he realizes his new job at the car wash starts soon. Just like he always envisioned on his 42nd birthday. Everything is going right according to plan.

_2010_

_Jesse… I’m gonna be at Civic Plaza tomorrow at noon. I hope you’ll give me the chance to explain myself and talk through everything once and for all. I’ll be alone and unarmed. So if you wanna come and shoot me in the head, that’s up to you. Either way… I’m in your hands._

__

*****

Jesse doesn’t know how this meeting can possibly go well. He is so devastatingly angry; he’s not sure if he’s ever been so goddamn mad at anyone in his whole miserable life. What is Mr. White thinking? Does he really think he can “talk this out?”

His heart is racing as he walks through the square. There’s so many people; so many sounds. So much has happened over the last 24 hours and Jesse’s head is ringing--he hasn’t shaken off the high yet and everything is overwhelming. 

Jesse spots the familiar form of Mr. White and his dumb, stupid bald head sitting on the bench, facing away from him. Jesse surveys the surroundings. Mostly everyone looks harmless, but there is a tall, intimidating (and, of course, bald) man standing nearby. He could be just a dude, but he’s also possibly Mr. White’s bodyguard or something. Maybe he’s there to take him out. 

_Bring it on,_ Jesse thinks. Maybe this is how it all ends. Wouldn’t it be better than selling out not only his partner, but also himself? And then ending up rotting in jail anyway. God, he hates Mr. White with a burning passion, but still, it's always been hammered into his psyche that turning on your partner and friend is a cardinal sin. Not to mention, he has no idea what Hank has in mind for him after this. Jesse imagines it's not a permanent stay with Hank and his wife in their fancy house. What a huge fucking mistake it was to confess to that DEA asshole. He is truly fucked now.

Jesse considers his options. He can turn around and try to make a run for it--Hank has eyes on him but Jesse can be pretty stealthy when he wants to be. That’s probably a stupid idea, though. He has nowhere to go. No money, either. Damn.

He also considers calling Mr. White from one of the payphones in the square and telling him that he’s not doing what he wants anymore--he’s going to get him where he really lives. That would be so damn satisfying. But again, Hank would call him out for it and he’d probably have to go to lock-up, which he is trying to avoid at all costs.

So, probably inevitably, Jesse makes his way towards Mr. White. A perverse part of him actually wants to know what Mr. White is going to say. He also realizes Heiesenberg is hiding just beneath the surface and can turn on him at any moment. Well, he’s ready to take that chance. Now or never.

Jesse inhales and exhales before slowly walking towards the bench. He sits down next to Mr. White, avoiding his eyes. He can still tell that Walt is relieved, though. It’s like Walt’s whole body relaxes now that Jesse has shown up. Which is… odd, but will hopefully make this easier. At least he’s not suspicious.

“Jesse. Thank you for meeting with me.” Mr. White clears his throat and looks down at his hands.

Jesse stares straight ahead, but gives him a little nod to continue. 

“I know… you’re angry with me. But I can explain. Will you please listen to me for a minute? Please. You know me, Jesse--I’m not a patient man, but I am literally begging you now to just… listen.”

Walt’s voice cracks a bit. He actually sounds _emotional_. Jesse knows he’s the world’s worst manipulator and he can’t fucking trust anything Mr. White says, but… Jesse can’t remember Mr. White ever sounding this vulnerable. It’s freakin’ him out.

But he also can’t deal with any more of Walt’s lies and justifications. Plus, Hank is listening and Jesse has to give him a little something, at least.

“You’re going to try to explain poisoning a child, a kid that I care about and--and _love_ , really? I am on the edge of my seat to hear this, Walt, I really am.” Jesse can’t keep the anger out of his voice. And he gets some satisfaction out of Mr. White slightly cringing when he calls him “Walt.” Which was Jesse’s intention.

“I know, it’s unforgivable. But Jesse, may I point out that he’s still alive? And doing fine, as we’ve seen--”

“If you ever even fucking _think_ of Brock again, much less call him or see him, I will destroy you in every way possible,” Jesse snarls. This time, he turns to look at Mr. White. He looks him right in the eyes. This is a mistake, because… he sees something in those sinister eyes that he hasn’t before. Regret. Sadness. Guilt. So he’s not a machine after all. So what? That doesn’t mean he’s forgiven for any of this.

“Jesse… please calm down. I get it, I do. But we needed a way to get Gus out of the picture. Gus was going to ruin everything. He was going to kill one of us, or both of us. That’s why… that’s why he had to go. Like you said at the hospital that day.”

Walt shakes his head, like it hurts too much to continue. Jesse has so much he wants to say to this ridiculous statement, but… he’s also torn. He wants Mr. White to go down for all of it. Everything he’s done in the past year--he _has_ to be stopped. He has to pay for it. There needs to be consequences. And yet… again, Jesse can’t stand being a rat. There's also the fact that if Mr. White goes down, so does Jesse. They’d both be completely screwed.

Not to mention, he didn’t spend the whole ride to the square thinking about a way out of this for nothing. 

Jesse reluctantly brings the note he hastily scrawled in Hank’s guest bathroom - with Marie’s lipstick and some toilet paper - out of his oversized jacket. He spreads it carefully on the bench, and makes sure Walt pays attention to what he’s doing. 

_We r in trouble. Stop talking. Meet me at midnight 2nite at junkyard._

Walt looks at it, and he frowns. He glances at Jesse curiously, and not without a hint of anger in his eyes. Jesse nods.

Walt also nods. He now knows he needs to say something fast before someone gets suspicious.

“Anyway… that’s in the past. All I wanted to say was that I’m sorry. That’s all. If you need anything, please call me. But for now, I think it’s best we keep our distance. Give us some time to think. Thank you for meeting with me today, Jesse. I… I wish you well in the future.”

“Really? You went through all the trouble of meeting here, risking me or someone else trying to kill you, just to… just for that _bullshit?!_ You don’t have anything else to say to me, _Walt_?” Jesse says this all for Hank’s benefit. He knows he has to at least try and get something else out of Mr. White, or at least pretend to.

“I can see that you aren’t ready to listen to reason yet, Jesse. We will talk again someday. But I’m leaving now. If you were going to shoot me in the head, now's the time.”

Walt gets up from the bench. He looks kinda pissed, actually. Jesse doesn’t blame him, honestly. Jesse switched the game. He changed the rules. 

Walt walks away. He moves past the bald guy Jesse thought could be his bodyguard, who is now happily holding a little girl. Jesse watches him go. His stomach hurts just thinking about the confrontation they will have at the junkyard later. Whatever happens, it won't be pretty.

*****

Jesse walks back to Hank’s van. Hank, of course, looks utterly disappointed in Jesse’s lack of producing anything helpful from Walt.

“Great job, kid. Just really excellent. The way you were able to make him confess everything to you… pure art.”

“Look, he admitted to poisoning Brock and to killing Gus. That’s gotta help, right?” Jesse points out.

“Right now it means dick to us. We’ll investigate, but really... Jesus Christ. You are useless.”

Jesse shudders. Hank’s opinion means literally nothing to him, but still… “useless” is an adjective that has been used referring to Jesse far too much in his life, and it fucking hurts, no matter who says it.

“Fuck off, man,” Jesse says under his breath. Hank pretends not to hear him.

Hank drives back to his house, where he and his dipshit partner discuss their next moves--who to give the recording of Walt to, what kind of warrant they can get from his confession, blah blah blah. Jesse has a few ideas he could give these idiots--for some reason, they can’t figure out what Walt’s prime motivation and basically his entire reason for living. Jesse thinks Huell probably knows where Walt hid his money, or at least has some idea. 

He keeps this idea to himself, though. Jesse can envision trapping Walt that way--setting up a whole plan, tailing Walt to wherever he’s keeping his money, Hank and his partner finally, _finally_ getting to arrest the infamous Heisenberg. Watching Walt go to jail or something worse would be such sweet relief for Jesse. But at the same time...

He supposes there’s another reason, one that’s harder to admit. Mr. White was actually… _remorseful_? Or something. Jesse got to know pretty much every facet of Mr. White over the last year, his good and his bad, and he knows the guy feels guilty, he knows he fucked up, he feels terrible about the poison and maybe even the other countless shitty things he’s done. Not that his “feelings” mean a damn thing to Jesse. They’ve gone too far now. Too many doors have closed. However… maybe Jesse is the most gullible shit-eating idiot on earth, but some depraved part of himself doesn’t want to see Mr. White go down this way. The part of him that still considers Mr. White a partner, his former teacher, his… mentor? Friend? It’s complicated. He just… doesn’t want it to end like this.

The fact is, Jesse already put his plan in motion so there’s no going back now. He has to get out of Hank’s house, he knows that much--whether he meets Mr. White at the junkyard or not.

Jesse thinks of all kinds of ways to escape from Hank’s house. He even comes up with a plan to put sleeping pills in Hank’s partner’s coffee, and maybe even shoot him in the leg if he has to. None of that is necessary, as it turns out. Walt’s brother-in-law is probably a decent DEA agent, but his common sense is for shit. He forgot that Gomez can apparently sleep through a fucking tornado if nobody wakes him up in time. This all works to Jesse’s advantage as he quietly sneaks out of his room, steals the Hello Kitty phone from where Hank tried to hide it in the kitchen, and gets the hell out of Hank’s house.

He runs a few blocks and then calls a cab. On the way to the junkyard, he hopes and maybe actually prays that he can get away with this. Because if not… he doesn’t even want to think about what happens next.

*****

Don't leave me now  
Don't say good bye  
Don't turn around  
Leave me high and dry

I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast  
I am alone in the night  
Been tryin' hard not to get in trouble, but I  
I've got a war in my mind  
I just ride  
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride

I'm tired of feeling like I'm fucking crazy  
I'm tired of driving 'till I see stars in my eyes  
I look up to hear myself saying, baby  
Too much I strive, I just ride  
I hear the birds on the summer breeze, I drive fast

I am alone in the night  
Been tryin' hard not to get in trouble, but I  
I've got a war in my mind  
I just ride  
Just ride, I just ride, I just ride 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things, as always:
> 
> \- Archive warnings and rating will change in further chapters.  
> \- Jesse/Walt is endgame because the heart wants what it wants.  
> \- Thanks for reading, I adore kudos and I love feedback/criticism even more.  
> \- Rock on.


	2. Chapter 2

_They say I'm too young to love you  
I don't know what I need   
They think I don't understand   
The freedom land of the seventies   
I think I'm too cool to know ya   
You say I'm like the ice I freeze   
I'm churning out novels like   
Beat poetry on Amphetamines  
I say   
I say_  


\- Brooklyn Baby - Lana Del Rey -

*****

Walt’s stomach hurts as he approaches the gates of the junkyard. What in the hell has Jesse gotten himself--no, _both of them_ , into this time? What mess is Walt going to have to clean up now?

He had been prepared to tell Jesse everything he needed to hear in the square. All he wanted was for Jesse to just _understand_. Walt was sure if he explained himself, Jesse would get it, and they could move on with their lives and go their separate ways. It would be so simple if Jesse would just allow it to be. But of course Jesse is in some kind of trouble again. And it looks like he’s taken Walt right down with him.

Joe is outside the gates waiting for him. Walt lowers his window. 

“Your partner is inside. Follow me.”

Walt drives into the junkyard and parks where Joe indicates. He gets out of the car and looks at Joe questioningly.

Joe shrugs. “I don’t know what that boy is up to, but he’s not looking so good. Maybe take it easy on the kid?”

Walt tries to give Joe the Heisenberg stare, but this seems to have no effect on him. Joe just shrugs again and leads him into the office.

Jesse is sitting on Joe’s worn out couch, hunched over. His eyes are rimmed red and the blue irises are faded. He has definitely seen better days, Walt thinks. After all that’s happened between them, there’s still some kind of soft spot in his heart for Jesse and all his issues. Walt just wants the guy to be healthy and productive, but it seems like that is just never his fate. Walt knows somewhere in the back of his head that he is at least partially responsible for the downfall of Jesse Pinkman, but he tries--and succeeds--to block that out as much as possible.

“Now, if either of you are holding, you better give it to me now.”

Jesse scoffs and shakes his head. Walt just continues to stare at Joe.

“I’m serious, compadres. I’m not going to have a double murder on my property. Hand them over, or I’ll search you myself. I’m stronger than I look.”

Walt exhales. He takes his gun out of his jacket and hands it to Joe.

Jesse looks at him with pure anger in his tired eyes. “Yo, are you fucking serious? What were you going to do with that thing, huh? You thought you were just going to take me out?”

“I didn’t know what you were getting me into tonight, Jesse. It was for my own personal protection, nothing else.”

“Whatever,” Jesse scoffs. 

“Jesse… you have anything to give me?” Joe asks.

Jesse shakes his head, but Joe doesn’t leave. He just extends his hand towards Jesse, like he’s expecting him to give him a gun.

Instead, Jesse reluctantly hands him a pocket knife from the back pocket of his jeans.

Walt chuckles. “Really?”

“You know I always have that on me, man. For my own ‘personal protection.’” 

“Play nice, boys. I’ll be outside if you need me to call the cops or something,” Joe says, and then leaves the office.

Walt sits at Joe’s desk, then turns the chair around to look at Jesse. Jesse doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Jesse… come on. Tell me what kind of trouble we’re in; I need to know. I need to make a plan. _We_ need to make a plan.”

Jesse’s head springs up. If nothing else, Walt is glad he awoke something inside of him at least. Even if it is his all-encompassing anger.

“ _We_?! _We_ are not the one going around poisoning little kids and killing Mike for no reason! _You_ are why we’re sitting here right now. Do you understand that? Do you _get_ that?”

Walt sighs. So this is how it’s going to be. He should have known. He supposes he deserves this, but still. He’s not pleased.

“I get it, Jesse. We’ll talk about it. But first you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Jesse exhales and shoves his hands in his pocket. It is indeed a little chilly in the trailer that is Joe’s office.

“Fine. Jesus. Look… I wanted to get the hell out of here, man. Like you said. A new beginning. I waited for that disappearer guy on the highway and I was ready to go. But then I figured it out. How Huell stole my pot, and how he must have lifted the ricin cigarette, too. I… kinda fucked up Saul a little bit when I got the information out of him. After that, I guess you know I went to your house…”

Walt nods. That's something they can discuss further later. He doesn't want to interrupt Jesse's stream of consciousness now.

“Well, I was completely prepared to burn the fucking house to the ground. And then… and then your goddamn brother-in-law walks in on me. He must have been following me.”

Walt is getting the picture now. This is even worse than he thought. Maybe as bad as it can possibly get. 

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesse… Jesse. Are you telling me that this thing today at the square, that was Hank? You were _wired?!_ ”

Jesse gets up and starts pacing around the small trailer. “Look, man, I had no choice, all right? He got me, Mr. White. There was no way out.”

“What did you tell him, Jesse?”

Jesse shakes his head and stifles a sob. Walt instinctively wants to give Jesse a comforting touch on the arm or something, which is annoying in this situation.

“No, no, you can’t get out of this one. _What did you tell him?_ ”

Jesse mumbles something, staring at the floor, looking like he wants to melt into it.

“What was that? Speak up, Jesse.”

“EVERYTHING! I told him everything. And he has me on tape, man. From when we first met in class, to you making me cook with you after they busted me and Emilio's lab, the RV, the super lab, Drew Sharpe... everything, man.”

Walt exhales, and sags into the chair. Now his instinct is to shake Jesse, punch him in the face, throw him out of the trailer. 

“Yo, you can hit me if you want--I mean, that’s what you’re thinking, right? That you can give me another black eye and it won’t matter ‘cause I can take it? It’s not going to solve anything, Mr. White. Look what we’ve done to each other, man. Look what we’ve already done.”

Jesse really is sobbing now. Walt shakes his head. Jesse did this to _him_ and he’s the one sobbing? 

Walt doesn’t say anything for a moment. He can tell this is making Jesse even more hysterical, but he has to collect his thoughts. He has to figure out what to do next.

“Mr. White! Say something! Jesus!”

Walt slowly looks at Jesse. Their eyes meet, and Jesse immediately looks away. 

The two of them are silent again. About a thousand thoughts go through Walt’s head. He knows this is the end of life in Albuquerque, as a family man, as a retired chemistry teacher with good standing in the community. Goddammit, he was _finished._ He was done cooking meth, and he thought he got away with it! Fucking Jesse Pinkman.

“Jesse… do you know what you’ve done? I have to get out of here, _now._ How could you do this? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jesse continues to look at the floor, so Walt continues.

“The way I see it is this--when Hank wakes up and finds you gone from his house, you will be the most wanted man in town, and then so will I. Maybe he doesn’t have any real evidence on me yet, but he’ll find it, or he’ll die trying. So we both have to get out of town, as soon as possible. I have to leave my family and they’ll never forgive me.”

Jesse nods sadly. “Yeah… that’s pretty much how I see it, too.”

“So here’s what we’re going to do now. You’re going to call Saul and get the number for the disappearer. If we’re lucky, he’ll take you back--remember, Saul said he doesn’t give second chances. Do you know anyone with a U-Haul or a large truck that can store a bunch of barrels?”

“Yeah, man, Skinny Pete knows a guy. I’ll call him after Saul.”

“Good. Because before we leave town, we’re going to the desert to dig up my money. No way in hell am I leaving that here. And we’ll need it for wherever we’re going.”

“Wait… we’re not leaving _together,_ are we? We can go to separate places, I sincerely fucking hope.”

Walt glares at Jesse. “I don’t know where we’re going, Jesse. I’m just trying to think of the long term here--we may be stuck together for a while. Do you think _I_ want that? You just threw a grenade into my life. Of course I want to be rid of you as soon as possible.”

“Yo, I’m getting a little tired of this guilt trip bullshit. I didn’t tell your brother-in-law a fictional story. I was there, man. We were _both_ there. This isn’t a fairy tale, Mr. White. This shit happened.”

Walt shrugs, like this is just an insignificant detail.

“Before you came along, I was just some low level meth head that slung ice with my friend from third grade. I didn’t want to become some fucking kingpin. Jesus, man. You are so full of shit, I can’t even believe it.”

Walt knows that Jesse is right, but he still can’t believe this is what it’s come down to. Plus, he still has one heavy question on his mind. He needs to know why.

“Why _now,_ though? He’s cornered you plenty of times and you never told him anything. Why now?”

Jesse is quiet again. He picks at a loose thread in his jacket. This is infuriating to Walt, but he tries not to lash out. At this point, that won’t accomplish anything.

“Tell me. Why now, Jesse?”

Jesse looks as though he is trying his hardest not to blow up again.

“Because, Mr. White. Because you poisoned Brock; he’s a little kid, man. An innocent kid. You killed Mike for no reason other than you disagreed with him. You killed Gus since he was trying to control you. And because you’ve been manipulating and screwing with me since the day we hooked up. Remember? You said I either had to cook with you or you were going to turn me into the DEA. From day one, it was always your game, your rules. I was tired of it, yo. There’s only so much I can take.”

Walt feels Jesse’s words crack through his armor. He’s been trying so hard to maintain that this is all someone else’s fault, that he is and always has been doing this for his family, and that he’s been right about everything this whole time. But this stings. Jesse is right. Walt looks at the man he has essentially ruined, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say.

He starts with…

“I am sorry about the situation with Brock, Jesse. Some part of me felt like I had to do something extreme to put these events in motion. Gus had to die; not only because he threatened us, but because we would never escape his grasp otherwise. It was the only way I could think of to make you see that Gus needed to be out of the picture. I agree, it was risky and foolish, but… it was the only way.”

"The _only_ way was to potentially kill a little kid? That was the only thing you could come up with, Mr. White? Jesus. I _just_ thought of like five different things we could have done instead of that. And what about Mike? Why did you have to off him?"

"I had my reasons."

Jesse shakes his head, but at least he looks a little less furious. Walt knew that if he just had the chance to talk to Jesse about his motivations, Jesse would at least try to understand. 

“Jesse, I promise we can talk about the rest of this later. I'm not trying to get out of this. We don’t have a lot of time now, though. I need to go home and settle things with Skyler. Call Saul and your skinny friend and I’ll meet you back here in 2 hours. Got it?”

“Um… I took a taxi here…” Jesse mutters. “I kind of need a ride to Skinny’s.”

Walt exhales. This kid. “Fine. Come on.”

Jesse calls Saul while directing Walt to Skinny Pete’s house. Saul is not amused by the late night call, nor by what Jesse has to say. After some angry back and forth, Saul finally agrees to call the disappearer for Jesse and Walt, and says he’ll let them know if he agrees to a second chance. 

At Skinny Pete’s, Jesse looks back at Walt before getting out of the car.

“I’m sorry, man. I really am.”

“I know,” Walt says. _”Me, too_ ” is what he wants to say, but the words won’t come out as he drives away to say good-bye to his family.


	3. Chapter 3

_Every time I close my eyes  
It's like a dark paradise  
No one compares to you  
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side  
_

\- Dark Paradise - Lana Del Rey -

*****

It’s 3:00 AM when Walt pulls up to his house. He quietly unlocks the door, trying not to wake up Junior. There’s still a strong gas odor coming from the living room. _Dammit, Jesse_ , he thinks to himself yet again.

He walks down the hallway silently as possible and opens the door to the bedroom. Skyler is asleep, but stirs when she hears the door open.

“Flynn?” Skyler asks quietly, turning over.

“No, hon. Shh. It’s me.” Walt sits on the edge of the bed and puts his hand on her leg.

“Walt? What time is it? What is…” Skyler runs out of questions, probably because this is Walt and she knows he’s never going to tell her what she wants to know.

“It’s early. Late. Look, Sky…” Walt sighs. How does he even start this conversation? She deserves the truth, but he doesn't know if that's exactly in her best interest.

“The time has come. I have to leave. There’s no other choice now.”

It’s dark, but he can see Skyler’s face reflected in the street light. She doesn’t look surprised--she doesn’t even look sad, actually. 

“Oh, Walt… I’m not going to ask what happened. Just tell me--do you have a plan?”

“I do.” Walt outlines his plans to Skyler, telling her about leaving a large amount of cash for her at a location he hasn’t determined yet; about the disappearer and getting out of town. As he tells her these details, his heart breaks just a little bit more with every word. He doesn’t want to do this, but Jesse has given him no choice. 

It’s still easier to blame Jesse.

“Are you leaving town with Jesse Pinkman?” Skyler asks pointedly.

“Well… yes. But not for long. We’ll hopefully part ways as soon as possible.”

Skyler nods. There’s so many things to say, but no time left to say them. 

“So… you don’t know when you’re coming back.”

“No,” Walt says. “I don’t know when I’m coming back.”

They both leave the obvious words unsaid. Walt is probably never coming back. There’s a high chance he’s going to die in the next six months. He will most likely never see Skyler again. 

“Then say your goodbyes. I won’t let you leave this house without saying _something_ to Junior. I’m not going to explain why his father had to escape in the middle of the night.” Her voice is full of both aching venom and breathtaking sadness now. 

Walt reaches out for Skyler’s hand. She reluctantly lets him hold it. 

“You know I don’t want to do this.”

“I know. But it’s a long time coming. You made choices, and these are the consequences. This isn’t anyone’s fault but your own. I hope you realize that when you wake up in the middle of the night, wherever the hell you are, missing your family.”

“Skyler…” She's right, and he hates that she's right. He's attempted to justify every single decision, and this one... he can't.

She shakes her head. “No more excuses, Walt. I tried. God knows I tried. I love you--you are the love of my life--but I need you to go. This is best for all of us. I’ll pack your suitcase while you talk to Junior.”

Walt realizes this isn’t going to get any easier. Skyler’s made up her mind; she’s had enough. She’s not going to listen to reason. It’s over.

“I love you,” Walt whispers, and lets go of Skyler’s hand. She looks anywhere but in his eyes.

Walt makes his way into Junior’s room. Junior wakes up when he hears the door open. Walt sits at Junior’s desk and tells him some elaborate story--his gambling problem has taken a turn for the worst and there are some bad guys after him now. He has to leave to protect the family. It’s possible that he’ll be back in a month or so, but he has to go now. Junior can’t believe this story, he keeps interrupting to ask for more information, and the rest of Walt’s heart breaks as he comes up with lie after lie after lie. 

“Dad, you can’t leave! Why can’t you just… I don’t know, call the police on these guys?! Can’t Uncle Hank do something about it? Look, I’ll call him now, we’ll figure it out--”

“No, son. I can’t ask Uncle Hank about this. It’s a long story. Look, I’ll be back soon and all of our problems will be over. I promise. We can be a family like we used to.”

Walter Junior finally runs out of steam. He can’t get through to his father, so he gives up.

“Fine. Get the hell out of here, then. We don’t need you, anyway.”

Walt thinks that’s probably true.

He tries to hug Junior but obviously he doesn’t want that. Sighing, Walt gets up, says he’s sorry and that he loves Junior, and closes the door. 

Walt finds Holly in her crib. He kisses her forehead, runs his finger through her little blonde curls. She’s so tiny and innocent; he can’t believe he’s not going to watch his daughter grow up. What he’s putting his family through is so patently unfair, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. 

Skyler meets him at the front door with two suitcases.

“I packed your toiletries, most of your clothes, some shoes. A photo album. I thought you might want to look at the family you ruined from time to time.”

Walt nods and thanks her. He’s numb now. There’s nothing else he can say to make her or himself feel any better about this.

“Thank you,” he says.

Skyler just nods. He leans in to kiss her softly--she allows it--and then walks out of the door, his heart breaking a little more with every step. When the door closes, that’s when it breaks completely.

*****

Walt meets Jesse at Pete’s as the sun is rising. It’s beautiful, as New Mexico sunrises often are. The sky is a mixture of purple, blue, and pink when he parks in front of the house. Walt thinks back to all the sunrises and sunsets that Skyler used to bug him to run outside and look at, and he’s now so regretful that he never cared as much as she did.

Skinny Pete opens the fence to his backyard so Walt can park his car behind it. He doesn’t know when, if ever, he’ll be able to get his car back. There’s no time to grieve his cool new car. 

Parked in front of the house is a newer model Dodge Ram with a U-Haul trailer attached to it. Walt inspects it carefully. 

“So this is Pete’s cousin's truck and trailer. We owe him, um, some money,” Jesse tells Walt.

“Yeah? How much?”

“Um… two hundred Gs,” Jesse says, looking embarrassed. “Look, if it were up to Pete, he’d give it to us for free. But Gunther, that’s his cousin, well, he’s a real asshole, and he says he’ll talk if we don’t give him the money…”

Walt sighs. He opens one of his suitcases and finds the money, handing it over to Pete. He supposes it’s the cost of doing business.

“Sorry, man. Enjoy the truck, though,” Pete says. “Jesse, dude, when am I going to see you again?”

Walt leaves Jesse and his friend to say their good-byes while he tries to figure out the mechanics of the truck. He gets the shovels out of the trunk of his car and moves them to the back of the truck. A few minutes later, Jesse opens the back door to the truck, throwing in a couple of ancient-looking suitcases. He then gets in the front seat, and without speaking, Walt drives off. He puts in the coordinates for To'hajiilee into the GPS; it’s only about 40 minutes from Albuquerque. 

They don’t talk on the way to the site. Walt turns on the radio and indicates to Jesse that he’s free to turn on whatever terrible music he wants to listen to. Walt is still numb. He tries not to think about the life he’s leaving behind. Part of him supposes this was inevitable; of course it was, based on the choices he’s made. Jesse certainly didn’t help, but part of Walt completely understands why Jesse did what he did. He couldn’t let Walt get away with it anymore. He was broken. Walt gets that now.

It’s almost 8 AM when they arrive to where Walt buried the money. Walt pulls up a few feet away and he and Jesse get out of the truck. Walt hands him a shovel.

“How many barrels do you have in here, Mr. White?” Jesse asks.

“Eight,” Walt grunts.

Jesse stares at the ground like he can’t believe all the physical labor he’s about to be forced to do. Walt appreciates that although this must be the last thing Jesse wants to do at 8:00 in the morning, Jesse doesn’t complain. 

They both take the shovels and dig hard and fast. Walt is exhausted; they both are, but they have a mission here. There is a method to this madness. Eventually they come across the first barrel, and then find the rest of them. They roll the barrels to the trailer of the truck (they do, apparently, learn from their mistakes) and rest for a minute before getting back to it.

Before loading the last barrel into the truck, Jesse takes a long drink from a bottle of water.

“Yo, I recognize this place. This is where we cooked for the first time, right?”

Walt takes a sip from his own bottle of water before answering.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he replies. 

“Interesting,” Jesse says, glancing at the surroundings.

“And why is that ‘interesting,’ exactly?”

“I dunno, maybe you had, like… some nostalgia or whatever, you know? You wanted to get back to the basics. Don’t worry, I think it’s sweet.”

Walt can’t help but chuckle a little. He thinks Jesse is probably right--Walt chose this place because he associates it with the early days of his partnership with Jesse. Before everything got so complicated. When all Jesse wanted to do was talk about cow houses and film his old half-naked chemistry teacher so he could show it to his friends later and laugh. 

“I don't know about nostalgia, exactly. It was just a place I was already familiar with... that's all.” Walt can't let himself admit any kind of vulnerability to Jesse, apparently.

Jesse nods but doesn't look convinced.

“Um, how much are we talkin’ here, Mr. White? What did we just dig up?”

Walt exhales. He wonders if he shouldn’t tell Jesse exactly how much it is--maybe he shouldn’t trust the person who got them into this shitty situation in the first place. Oh, hell, why not? They’re stuck together for the foreseeable future; he might as well.

“Eighty million dollars.”

Jesse drops his shovel _and_ the bottle of water. He’s actually speechless. Walt waits for him to say something, anything.

“Holy fuck,” Jesse finally says.

“Indeed. A lot more than five million,” Walt can’t help but add.

Jesse shakes his head. “What are you going to do with all of this?”

“Well, the first plan is to leave some for Skyler. I can’t go to the car wash because Hank might already be looking for me there. So we’re going on a road trip to Santa Fe. She has a friend there who is, well, she’s understanding for the right price.”

“Okay, and then what?”

Walt shrugs.

“What… you don’t know?”

“No. I haven’t figured it out yet. Contrary to your belief, Jesse, I don’t have the answers to everything. I guess we’ll make it up as we go along.”

“Cool,” Jesse says, and shrugs. Walt wonders what it’s like to not have to worry about leaving a family behind. To not have strings that hold you back from going wherever the road leads. Walt is both somewhat jealous of and yet still sort of angry with Jesse. There’s no point, though, when he thinks about it. Whether he wants to be or not, he and Jesse are inextricably linked for as long as necessary.

It’s an hour-long drive to Santa Fe from Albuquerque. This time Walt and Jesse talk a little. About what they would want to do with that much money, in a dream scenario. Walt, of course, would buy a big house for the family, send Junior and Holly off to only the best colleges, invest in the stock market, blah blah blah. 

"How boring," Jesse says under his breath.

"You think so? And what would you undoubtedly blow all your money on? Cheetos, meth, and porn, I bet."

Jesse chuckles. "Maybe the old me. The old me would definitely buy a yacht. And have parties on it every night. And serve, like, caviar and shit.”

“I think you’d need more money for that,” Walt replies. “This is more like, forever secure kind of money, not “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous” kind of money. But regardless... what would the 'new' you do with it?” Walt doesn't exactly know what "new" version of himself he is referring to, but he feels a tiny bit of pride that Jesse is ready to leave his old ways behind. 

"I'd go to Alaska. Buy a big house, fix it up. Adopt a dog. Start over."

Walt is intrigued.

"Really? That's something you think about a lot?"

"Yeah, man. That's where I was going before I figured out the whole poison thing. I had a conversation with Mike about it once, and... I can't stop thinking about it now. Maybe I'll end up there someday."

Jesse shrugs, like none of this is a big deal, and yet Walt finds himself feeling kind of... sad? Alaska would have been a perfect place for Jesse to create his new life. Just another way Walt has messed up the life of someone close to him. He doesn't know what he can do about it at this point, but... he wants to make it up to Jesse. Somehow.

Before Walt can ponder this for too long, his burner phone rings. 

“Yeah?”

“Hello to you, too. It’s Saul. Just got off the phone with Ed. I had to talk him into it--and believe me, he was not a happy man--but he’ll take both of you.”

“And the price?” Walt asks, knowing it’s going to be steep.

“Four million. That’s two million each. He won’t budge on that, Walt--I did try.”

“Okay. Okay, thanks, Saul. Do we meet him, or…”

“He’ll be in touch today. Don’t fuck this up, Walt. And tell that partner of yours that he better be on his best behavior.”

Saul hangs up, and Walt wants to throw the phone out of the window. That’s a pretty considerable dent in his barrel funds.

“The guy will take both of us. Four million.”

“Jesus," Jesse mutters. Walt agrees.

*****

In Santa Fe, Skyler’s friend Sheryl, her roommate in college, meets Walt at her house. He leaves ten million dollars with Sheryl, and doesn’t even blink when Sheryl wants a million for herself. It’s worth the hassle, Walt thinks. He just wants to get the hell out of town.

When Walt gets back in the car, he does some quick math.

“Four million for the disappearer, minus 10 million for Skyler and one million for her cousin… we have 65 million left,” Walt mutters. He’s going to have to keep a better eye on the money. If he keeps giving it out like this, he’ll have nothing left.

They both remember a similar conversation they had about money, after meeting with Tuco in the junkyard. That feels like such a long time ago, and yet it was barely even a year. 

“Mr. White… you said _we_ ,” Jesse says quietly.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I hate to point this out, but you said ‘we.’ I got out, man. I didn’t earn any of that money. It’s not mine.”

Walt nods, as though he hasn’t considered that fact.

“You’re right, Jesse. Well… do you even have any left?”

“No… the DEA took it all. I had like $25,000 left in a drawer at home, but I left it there. I have about $43 left in my pocket right now.”

Walt exhales. 

“I’m not going to leave you out in the cold, if that’s what you’re worried about. When we get separated, we’ll figure it out. For now, I consider this yours as much as mine. Don’t… question me about it, okay? That’s what I’ve decided. Now, turn the radio up.”

Jesse looks… something. Touched, maybe. He gazes at him in a way Walt has seen only a handful of times from Jesse. Usually when Walt compliments him or tells him he’s doing a good job. In spite of himself, Walt gets a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Again, not for the first time. He would never be able to describe it, but it’s like… a fondness for this kid that he’s tried to teach so much. A warmth that takes him by surprise.

He shakes it off and focuses on driving back to Albuquerque. Soon, Saul calls and he hands the phone to Jesse. Jesse writes down the address Saul gives him, and puts it in the GPS.

“This is it, I guess,” Walt says, as they park the truck behind the vacuum repair shop.

“Yeah. Our new life,” Jesse says.

 _Leading to my same old death,_ Walt can’t help but think to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

_Because I'm crazy, baby  
I need you to come here and save me   
I'm your little scarlet starlet  
Singing in the garden  
Kiss me on my open mouth_

\- Off to the Races - Lana Del Rey -

*****

Although Walt and Jesse have come to some sort of peace agreement, there’s still tension in the air. They’re sharing a tiny room under the vacuum shop, with two cots on either side.

Walt resumes what Jesse assumes is his favorite new activity--pacing around the tiny room they are calling home for the next few days.

“God, dude, will you settle down, please? You’re like a fucking greyhound or something. You never sit down.”

“I’m thinking. Wherever Ed is taking us, there’s got to be a way to contact Skyler. There has to be a way to… I don’t know, to bring her out to where I am, or for me to come back here to Albuquerque. I have to come up with something.”

Jesse thought Walt had come to terms with never seeing Skyler again after he took the money to Santa Fe, but apparently not. It’s unnerving how much he changes his goddamn mind sometimes.

Jesse wishes he could at least smoke a joint. That always mellows him out. He’s still a bit shaky from the shit he took a few days ago. What Jesse is most worried about are the nightmares. When he’s coming down from a big high, he never sleeps well. And being in this small space with Mr. White… well, he’s concerned.

Ed knocks on the door and comes in to their little shared space.

“I’m still working on it, guys. Like you probably guessed, you at least need to stay together for a month or so wherever I figure out to send you. The heat is high on you two. You’re all over the news already--both of you. So it’s very important you follow my instructions, or it’s over. I’m already compromising on my rules, anyway. Got it?”

Jesse and Walt nod. Ed looks at both of them disdainfully, and then leaves again.

“God, he’s a bundle of joy, isn’t he?” Jesse says. Walt just shakes his head. Whatever good mood he was in yesterday, that’s gone now.

“Whatever. I’m gonna take a shower,” Jesse mutters.

Walt nods, not really paying attention.

Jesse takes a long time in the shower--he feels disgusting after digging up all those barrels in the desert. He thinks about what’s going to happen next, how he’s stuck with Walter White for as long as necessary. He thinks about what he’s leaving behind--his parents and his brother, he’s not so sad about. They don’t care about him anymore, anyway. But Andrea and Brock… his heart breaks for them. 

He gets out of the shower to find there’s only one small towel on the rack. He wraps it around his waist and goes back to the bedroom-slash-living room. He rummages through his suitcase to find some underwear. When he turns around to put them on, Jesse is surprised to see Walt staring right at him. 

Jesse doesn’t say anything, he just slowly puts his underwear on while Walt watches. He doesn’t know what the fuck is happening, but he kinda digs the way Walt can’t seem to take his eyes off of him.

“Enjoying the show?” Jesse says when he gets his underwear on.

Walt seems to shake himself out of the trance he was just in.

“Oh, um, sorry, Jesse. I was just thinking about Skyler and my mind just… drifted off.” Walt chuckles, and then goes back to pacing the room.

“Okay… well, I’m gonna go to sleep,” Jesse says. He can’t stop himself from hiding a grin, though. This is actually not the first time Jesse has caught Walt checking him out--there was a time or two during a cook or whatever when Jesse straight up wondered if Mr. White was going to pin him down and kiss him or something. He just had that look in his eye. The moment always passed quickly, but not quick enough for Jesse not to notice or forget that it happened.

Jesse wonders if Walt ever had any experiences with a man before. He did go to college in the seventies, after all. Jesse's had a few encounters in the past. He didn't hate it. Not that he ever, like, fantasized about Mr. White and what could happen in the dark when they're alone together. That would be weird, right?

“Fine. I’ll turn the light off. I’m not tired yet, though.”

“Maybe you would be if you just… stopped pacing for a fucking minute,” Jesse says. Walt gives him a thumbs up but doesn’t stop.

Jesse lays down and closes his eyes. As he drifts off to sleep, he hopes the nightmares won’t be as bad as usual.

*****

Jesse is looking inside a window of his house. Andrea and Brock are in the house, but he’s not. He tries to move; tries to find the door so he can go get them, but his feet won’t budge. They are in the kitchen, eating some ice cream. Just a few feet away, one of the curtains catches on fire. No one seems to notice. Soon, the whole house is engulfed in flames, except for the kitchen. Andrea and Brock are still oblivious to the fire. Jesse tries to yell, tries to bang on the windows, tries everything to get their attention, but it’s to no avail. The kitchen finally succumbs to the fire, and Andrea and Brock are gone. Jesse is sobbing, but his feet still won’t move.

He feels pressure on his chest, like he’s having a heart attack. _This is it,_ he thinks. This is finally it.

“Jesse! Come on, son, it’s just me! Wake up. Come on, wake up.”

Jesse’s eyes open to Walt standing over him. Walt had turned on the light and Jesse can see the plain worry and concern on his face. 

“Oh, shit, Mr. White… oh, god.” Jesse is breathing hard, and he can feel the sweat running down his face.

Walt gets up and comes back soon with a wet washcloth. Jesse lets him wipe his face gently. It feels nice, actually. Soothing.

“Just breathe, son. Just breathe, it’s okay,” Walt says, rubbing Jesse’s bare back, trying to calm him down.

When Jesse is able to breathe normally again, he nods at Walt.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I just… I have these nightmares.”

“Okay. You’re okay now.” Walt doesn’t stop rubbing his back.

Jesse is quiet. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of Walt’s warm hands. It’s almost mesmerizing.

“Mr. White… your brother-in-law. He said… he said some things…”

“What is it, Jesse? What did Hank say?” Walt sounds worried instead of mad. It’s a strange development, Jesse thinks. 

“He said… that you do all this shit to me because… you care about me. That you saved my life because…” Jesse trails off. Walt doesn’t stop rubbing his back. Instead, he increases the pressure. 

"Because you need me to stick around."

“What else did he say, son?”

Jesse is crying now, of course. He just can’t seem to stop the waterworks when Walt is touching him. 

“That you’re trying to keep me close to you. That you do all this devious shit--like help me find the ricin cigarette--to convince me you’re not such a bad guy. So I won’t leave.”

Jesse knows he’s talking too much; he completely understands that he should just close his fucking mouth, but Walt is still rubbing his back and it feels nice and safe and…

“Well, I don’t know about all that, Jesse. It seems kind of convenient for Hank to say those things, doesn’t it?” Walt says. Jesse nods, wiping his eyes. “But I suppose I do want to keep you close to me. I guess… _some_ of the things I do can be thought of as manipulations, but in my mind… I’m doing it for your own good, son. Not to harm you. Not to play mind games with you. But to help you.”

“Mr. White… I’m not an idiot,” Jesse says. He tries not to notice that Mr. White’s hands have sunk lower into his back, and he _really_ tries not to notice how his body is reacting to his touch. “You can just, like, tell me the truth, man. I can deal with it. I’ve dealt with a lot of nasty shit in my life, yo.”

“I know, Jesse, I know. And for the most part, I am sorry. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain,” Walt is almost whispering now. 

"He said... that you really did a number on me. And sometimes I think he was right..." 

"Oh, Jesse... that was never my intention... I only do what I think is right... for both of us. To keep us safe." 

Jesse is not so naive that he believes him, but he's also desperate to feel close to someone now. Even if that someone is the exact opposite of who he should be confiding in. 

“Mr. White…”

Jesse turns his head and collides with Walt’s face. Instead of apologizing, Jesse does what comes natural to him in this moment--he kisses the side of Walt’s face. Walt doesn’t move. He is completely still. So Jesse searches for Walt’s mouth, and when he finds it, their lips meet.

Jesse quickly moves away because everything is weird, but Walt gently grabs his head and leans in to give Jesse a real kiss. Softly. Slowly. It lasts for kind of a long time. Jesse knows he wants this but can’t understand why. This is Mr. White--why the hell would he want to kiss him?! It makes no sense. But the longer they kiss, the more Jesse starts to want this, and it seems like Walt does, too. Their tongues meet for just a second, and then they meet again. Jesse wants to bite Walt’s lip, he wants to lick his--

Finally Walt pulls away. He obviously looks completely freaked out, which Jesse finds endearing.

“Well. Hopefully you’ll be able to go back to sleep now. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?” Walt says, a hint of shakiness in his voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, yo. In the morning.”

“Good night, Jesse…” Walt can’t seem to help himself--he pulls Jesse in for a tight hug. Jesse holds on for dear life.

When they part, Jesse says, “Yeah… good night, Mr. White.” Walt turns the light back off and goes back to his own bed. Jesse lies back down, and tries his best to ignore how fucking hard he is, and how much he wants to finish that kiss with the last person in the world he thought he'd be kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the Kudos and the comments. I'm going to take a break for a few days because, well, I kind of need to write the rest of it. Rock on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Not only is this bad boy finished, but it's much longer than I anticipated. I will post one chapter a day. Thanks for reading, I adore Kudos and comments, and rock on.

_Don't make me sad, don't make me cry  
Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough, I don't know why  
Keep making me laugh  
Let's go get high  
The road is long, we carry on  
Try to have fun in the meantime_

\- Born to Die - Lana Del Rey - 

__

__

*****

They find themselves settling in St. Joseph, Michigan, a small town on the edge of Lake Michigan. Nobody tends to pay attention to them here. The area gets a lot of tourism activity in the fall, so they haven’t been noticed among the residents. 

The house that Ed found for them is a two-bedroom, one-bathroom home built in 1954, but lacking any possible trace of mid-century modern charm. It has original wood floors that some well-meaning home owner tried to restore in 1987 but ended up botching somehow. The kitchen has butcher block counter tops and ancient appliances, but at least they are in working condition. The house itself is painted a bright yellow, but it fits in with the other colorful houses on the block. They haven’t met any neighbors yet, which is obviously fine with them. Jesse and Walt are actually quite comfortable here; it reminds them of the houses they grew up in, respectively. 

The best thing about the house is the spacious backyard. Walt is usually lured outside at dusk by the sunset; the colors aren’t as beautiful as he’s used to in Albuquerque, but they’ll do. Jesse likes to go out and smoke. Sometimes he stares at the bare flowerbeds and wants to get his hands dirty; spend a few hours digging in the dirt, planting whatever is in season. That’s what sustained him the most in rehab; getting dirt under his fingernails, taking care of something other than himself--which he was never very good at, anyway. He just hasn’t gotten around to doing anything about it yet, because he keeps thinking he and Walt won’t stick around much longer.

They both had some hope in the first month that this wouldn’t be a permanent situation. That the two of them would be able to live their own lives soon enough. So meanwhile, they are actually quite civil with each other. They cook together, watch some of the DVDs that Ed had left, even talk about what they plan to do when they are “free.” Jesse still plans to go to Alaska while Walt is still forever trying to figure out how to either get to his family or get them to him. 

They look forward to and talk frequently about Ed’s first planned visit five weeks after they move into the small house in St. Joseph. Walt and Jesse are eager to find out where they were going next. But… Ed unfortunately does not bring good news with him.

Walt and Jesse help Ed bring in everything from their extensive list. Jesse wanted more DVDs, an old-school Game Boy (since Ed does not allow them to have phones, computers, or anything that the internet can be used for--this is his number one rule), three bags of both Funyuns _and_ Doritos, and other assorted mid-twenties growing-boy things.

Walt only asked for reading glasses, newspapers, and some chili peppers. He misses the New Mexico cooking staples.

After everything has been sorted out and they engage in the pleasantries, Jesse wants to get straight to the point.

“So when do we get to leave this place?” Jesse asks as they all sit down at the kitchen table. Walt is making some coffee but is also very interested in the answer to this question.

“Oh, well, I don't know for sure yet. It could be indefinitely.” Ed shrugs, unconcerned, like he isn’t completely shattering both of their worlds at the same time.

Walt nearly drops the can of coffee that he was pouring into the filter. _Indefinitely?!_

“What?! That’s bullshit, man,” Jesse says angrily. “Two months. You said two months before we could leave this shithole and go our own way.”

“I said _maybe_ two months,” Ed says impatiently. “The heat on you two hasn’t died down yet. They have both of your fingerprints, your DNA, everything. Perhaps they don’t know every bit of what you’ve done, but they have a good idea. They already got to everyone at the Nazi compound-- Jack, Todd; the entire crew is in jail now. And those boys are talking. So needless to say, you guys can’t go anywhere yet. I’ll come back in two months. I brought enough groceries to last that long.”

Walt and Jesse beg and plead, but to no avail. Ed is firm on his rules. 

When Ed leaves, they both go into their rooms (of which they at least have separate ones) and slam the door. They don’t talk for two days.

On the third day, Walt is making breakfast when Jesse appears from his room, shirtless with his hair disheveled. As usual, Walt tries to ignore the weird ache his stomach gets when he sees Jesse all sleepy and vulnerable. And half-naked. 

“Good morning… sleep well?”

“No, I slept quite shitty, actually,” Jesse says. He sits at the kitchen table, staring at the back of a box of cereal like it’s a fascinating novel.

Walt finishes making the scrambled eggs and puts them on a plate. He adds the plate to the table, where there’s already a stack of pancakes. Walt doesn’t love pancakes but he knows Jesse does.

“Have some pancakes,” Walt says. He spreads out one of the newspapers Ed brought for him to read while he eats his eggs.

“Look, I’ve had about enough of this, Mr. White,” Jesse mutters. “Are we just never going to talk about anything? We’re just going to pretend that this is all normal while you make pancakes and eggs every day?”

Walt sighs. “What do you want to do, Jesse? I suppose you could leave and try it on your own, but if you get caught, nobody can protect you. You don’t think it kills me that I can’t go home and be with Skyler and the kids? Or that I at least can’t get in the car and drive to the store and buy a Snickers bar or something? These are the cards we’ve been dealt, Jesse. We just have to be patient.”

“Patient? Oh, patience. Right, Mr. White. You’re so _good_ at being patient.” Jesse glares at Walt and scoffs. He gets up without touching the eggs, cereal, or pancakes. 

Before he can go stomping back to his room like a petulant toddler, Walt grabs Jesse’s arm and says, “What are you talking about, Jesse? Don’t walk away from me like you always do.”

Jesse turned around and stared at Walt. The weight of Jesse’s steely blue-eyed stare makes Walt’s stomach hurt.

“Let’s just say that if it comes down to either taking care of things, or being patient and waiting around forever… I know what side you’re on,” Jesse says with irritation.

Walt sighs, and lets go of Jesse’s arm. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jesse storms back into his room, and ten minutes later comes out in a heavy coat and boots. 

“Taking another walk?” Walt asks.

“You and your brilliant powers of deduction,” Jesse says, and then he’s gone.

*****

This is about The Kiss.

The day after they shared the intimate moment, Ed put them in the back of a semi-truck and drove them to Michigan. The entire day, Jesse seemed like he wanted to talk about it, or maybe even enjoy a repeat performance. But Walt never gave him a chance. He always changed the subject, or backed away from Jesse whenever he got too close to him. Jesse got the point and gave him his distance. Something changed between them, and it didn’t feel right. But ignoring it and moving past it _was_ right. Walt knew that in his heart.

It’s not that Walt doesn’t want to do it again. He very much wants to, and that’s why he can’t.

What are they going to do, make out in every room of their 1,000 square foot yellow house? Go on dates in the small town and attract attention from people who want to know more about the unusual couple who just moved in? He doesn’t know what Jesse wants from him. Walt doesn’t have anything to offer.

The only time they can leave is to go for a walk, and Walt is pretty sure Ed wouldn’t even allow that if he knew about it. Almost every day, Jesse walks two miles to Warren Dunes State Park, and Walt has no idea what he does there. At least he usually comes home in a better mood. 

And, although they don’t talk about it, Walt still has cancer. He hasn’t been keeping up with chemo, and feels a little worse with every passing day. He should probably ask Ed if he knows any doctors in the area who could discreetly provide chemo for him, but he has basically resigned himself to whatever will happen. Especially after learning that they will be in Michigan indefinitely. There’s no point in contacting Skyler. There’s really no point to anything. There’s particularly no point in trying to start a whatever-the-hell with Jesse when he only has a limited amount of time left.

Walt has a lot of time to think during the long days and nights in the little yellow house. More than think--fantasize. He fooled around with a few men in his younger days but never felt anything real for them. Jesse, he is real. He is flesh and bone. He is practically a work of art, Walt has decided after giving it some thought. With his thin frame, the tattoos--Walt is especially a fan of dragon tattoo on his chest--and god, those hip bones… well, after the kiss, Walt can’t stop thinking about taking it a step--or many steps--further. He dreams about it at night and thinks about it during the day. But it wouldn’t be fair to either one of them.

It’s been just over a year since he and Jesse became partners, and it almost feels like a lifetime. He’s had to save Jesse from himself over and over again. When Jesse brought Krazy 8 and Emilio to the RV, Walt had to figure out how to get them both out of the situation with their lives intact. He’s held Jesse in his arms when he was strung out on heroin. He’s literally killed for Jesse Pinkman. And yet… it’s not enough. Walt still doesn’t feel like he has enough to offer Jesse, after everything he’s done to hurt him.

Jesse deserves more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the house that I kind of pictured them in:  
> https://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3192-Grand-View-Ave_Saint-Joseph_MI_49085_M39920-38347?view=qv
> 
> It's not yellow but it could easily be!
> 
> (I'm a realtor so I'm dorky about this kind of stuff)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how when you're in too deep with an OTP and every song you hear reminds you of them, especially Lana Del Rey's entire catalog even though it may be completely overdone and cliched? So that's what's up with all the Lana Del Rey songs. *shrug emoji*

_You don't ever have to be stronger than you really are  
When you're lying in my arms, baby  
You don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace  
Or faster than my fastest cars_  


\- California - Lana Del Rey -

*****

Puzzles. 

Puzzles are what keeps Walt sane during the long hours of nothingness, when Jesse goes for his walks or when Walt can’t sleep at night. Although Ed can’t pick out a DVD for shit, he left them a huge stack of puzzles. Walt is slowly making his way through them. It gives him time to think. And he has a lot to think about.

He misses his family. So much. He misses the little things the most. Like when he got home from teaching a bunch of bored teenagers and Skyler would greet him happily, as though she’d been waiting for him all day. He misses laughing with Junior at some inane TV show after dinner. And Holly. Holly, who will never know her dad. Her blonde curls. Her pretty blue eyes. He’s not going to be there for a single one of the milestones in her life, and that just kills him.

But… he tries not to think about them as much now. He obviously can’t contact them--it’s for their own safety. They will be fine. He just needs to keep telling himself that they will be just fine. Probably even better without him.

The front door opens to the small house and thankfully interrupts his thoughts. Walt nods as Jesse comes in from his long hike, or whatever he was doing. 

“How was it today?”

“Fine,” Jesse replies, as he always does. He goes into the bathroom and closes the door. Walt hears the shower running. He shakes his head as he continues his puzzle.

When Jesse comes out an hour later, he looks somewhat… refreshed? He’s at least speaking to him now, which Walt appreciates after their earlier confrontation.

“Hey,” Jesse says. “You’re making progress on that one.”

“Yes, I suppose so. It’s a 2,000 piece puzzle. Gotta make it count.”

“So what are we gonna eat tonight?” Jesse asks, apparently just moving right past the fact that he refused to eat breakfast.

“I haven’t thought about it yet. Maybe a grilled cheese?” 

Jesse sighs. “I got a steak out of the freezer yesterday. Will you please share it with me? You need the protein.”

“I don’t know, Jesse. I’m not very hungry tonight.’

“Come on, Mr. White. You have to eat. Please just have some steak. Don’t make me beg.”

Since Walt is touched by the fact that Jesse seems to care about his well-being today, which isn’t always the case, he eventually nods.

“Yes, fine. I will eat some of the steak.” Since living together, they learned that they like their steak cooked exactly the same--medium, with onions and mushrooms and topped with garlic butter. 

“Thank you. I’ll get started on it soon.”

The two of them sit in silence, both in their own worlds. Jesse picks up the book he’s been reading, “On the Road” by Jack Kerouac, while Walt focuses on the puzzle--well, only half-focuses on the puzzle. He’s really studying Jesse as he reads. He seems so studious as he concentrates. Walt finds himself wanting to take the book out of his hands and make Jesse look at him.

 _Why?_ Why does he want Jesse’s attention so badly? And why can’t he just… do something about it? Jesse has made it clear that he hasn’t forgotten their kiss and likely would not mind a repeat performance. So it wouldn’t be so out of line if he just...

Walt tries to return his sights back on the puzzle. About 20 minutes later, Jesse puts his book down.

“How are you enjoying the book? It was a favorite of my peers in college,” Walt says.

“It’s really good, I dig it. But it’s kind of just bumming me out.”

Walt nods. “Because he’s traveling so much and we can’t do that any time soon?”

“Or, like, ever again, apparently. But yeah. It makes me want to go on a road trip. At least around Michigan. We live here but we don’t know anything about it. I guess that might be kind of hard, without a car and all.” Jesse sighs.

Walt thinks about it for a minute. “We _could_ buy a cheap car and just go for it,” he says. “And then ditch it when we’re done.”

Jesse grins at him. Walt’s stomach does the flippy thing. He knows he’s only suggesting this to make Jesse happy; otherwise it’s a fucking terrible idea. They should definitely just stay put, at least for another couple of months. But it’s not like they have anything else to do. And what Ed doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Let’s do it. When, tomorrow?” Walt loves how easy Jesse is. About mostly everything. 

“Soon. Maybe the beginning of next week? Let’s get some ducks in a row first.” 

“I love it. Yeah, Mr. White! Look at you. Being rebellious for once in your life.”

“Aside from that whole manufacturing and distributing methamphetamines throughout the whole of the Southwest region of the United States thing? Yes, I suppose there’s a first time for everything,” Walt says, and Jesse laughs.

Walt loves it when Jesse laughs.

*****

Jesse’s a lot of things, but he’s not fucking blind.

He thinks about a lot of stuff when he takes his long walks in the dunes. He thinks about the bad shit he’s done--he will never get past shooting Gale like he was some kind of, well… problem dog is always going to be the best way to describe it, he supposes. He thinks about Jane, and Andrea and Brock, and his parents and his brother. About those dudes he shot in Mexico. About what he’s going to do when he gets to Alaska. Last week he even spent the whole walk remembering his old dog Cujo, who he got to pick out himself when he was nine years old. Cujo was his best friend, until he ran off in the middle of the night, chasing after some female dog in heat. At least that’s what his dad told him. 

Jesse also thinks about Walt. A lot. How frustrating it is to live with a man who can’t acknowledge his own feelings. He knows Walt has a lot on his mind--and he has an inkling of _what_ exactly he’s thinking about lately. It would be so much easier if Walt just said something, anything, or made some kind of move, but… he just refuses. 

Jesse goes through an entire thought process from beginning to end when it comes to Mr. White. Part of him still hates the guy. The asshole who got him into this mess in the first place. The guy who poisoned a little boy, who put in motion the murder of a drug kingpin because he couldn't stand not being the one in control. Who killed Mike just because Jesse was getting too close to him. Walter White, who manipulated and lied to Jesse for an entire year just to get his own goddamn way, no matter who he hurt or even killed. 

That part of himself really resents the fact that he also considers Mr. White his partner, and more than that, his friend. He’s the only person Jesse can talk to. Literally. He’s getting to know so many things about the guy--endearing things, annoying things, and everything in between. And Mr. White has taught him so much. From the basics of chemistry to cooking meth, all the way to how far Jesse will go in the name of loyalty to one person.

It sucks that Jesse can’t go to Alaska yet. It sucks that the two of them are stuck in a shitty house in Michigan while life goes on without them. But at least they’re together. At least they can still count on each other. At least. Jesse wonders what Mike would think about the situation they’ve gotten themselves in. Not much, probably.

Plus… he knows Walt watches him when he thinks he’s not looking. He knows what Walt wants from him but can’t admit it, not even to himself. Jesse finds himself wanting the same things. It’s not like he’s gay or something. There are just… limited options available to him at the moment. But it’s more than that. Like, he’s kind of attracted to Walt? His longer hair and the beard are working for Jesse somehow. And even though their one kiss was almost too short to evaluate, he still thinks about it a lot. There was promise in that kiss. Like they are compatible in more ways than one. He also feels safe with Walt, in a weird way. There's comfort in knowing that Walt can get them out of any situation they come across. 

After they cook the steak together and talk a little more about their impending road trip while they eat, Jesse’s in his room playing with his Game Boy. He hears Walt coughing from outside. At first he thinks it’s Walt’s normal coughing fit, which he’s gotten used to, but it’s not stopping. In fact, it actually sounds worse than usual.

Jesse rushes out of his room and finds him hunched over the railing of the steps in the backyard. Walt can’t seem to catch his breath, and Jesse knows he’s probably coughing up blood. He’s terrified.

“Mr. White! Mr. White, come on. Come on, come inside and sit down. Please.”

Walt doesn’t want to move--or maybe he doesn’t have enough energy to move. He just shakes his head and tries to wave Jesse away. So Jesse grabs him by the waist and manages to get him on the living room sofa.

“Hold on, I’ll get you some water,” Jesse says. He runs to the kitchen and gets a glass of water. He also grabs a kitchen towel and dampens it with cold water.

In the living room, Jesse helps Walt drink the water. Slowly, very slowly, Walt starts to calm down. Jesse hands him the kitchen towel and Walt wipes the blood off his lips. Jesse keeps his hand on Walt’s back while Walt tries to catch his breath.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Walt finally says. “That seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“I don’t think you can say it came out of nowhere when you’ve done nothing to get better since we’ve been here,” Jesse responds. “Have you even thought about finding a doctor here in Michigan? I’ll ask Ed for you if that’s what’s stopping you.”

“No, that’s not what’s stopping me…” Walt says. He looks so… empty, Jesse thinks. It hurts Jesse to see him not even trying to fight, even if the outcome is inevitable. But Jesse kind of gets it, too. He’s not sure he wouldn’t feel the same way in Walt’s shoes.

“Will you at least promise me that you’ll call Ed when we get back from our road trip? That gives you at least a few days to either talk yourself into it or find a new excuse.”

“I don’t know, Jesse…”

“Please. Will you please _think_ about it?”

Walt doesn’t respond, instead just looking straight ahead like an annoying teenager. So Jesse plays his trump card; the one he knows Walt won’t be able to say no to.

“For me. Do it for me, if you can’t do it for you.” Jesse moves his hand from Walt’s back to his shoulder, and squeezes it as tenderly as possible. Walt closes his eyes for a moment, as though he wasn’t expecting this small gesture--as though it’s making him change his mind. Which was Jesse’s intention. 

“Okay. I promise,” Walt says, his voice scratchy and deep. He looks over at Jesse and the fondness in his eyes catches Jesse off-guard, even though he’s the one who wanted this to be A Moment. 

Jesse almost-- _almost_ goes in for the kiss again, but seeing that Mr. White just wiped blood from his mouth, he should probably give the guy some time to recover.

“Will you let me help you to bed? Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you needed to be tucked in,” Jesse says.

Walt scoffs, but lets Jesse pull him off the couch. They walk carefully to Walt’s bedroom, where Walt sits on his bed. Jesse hovers in the doorway.

“I’m fine, Jesse. Thank you for your help. You can go now.”

Jesse doesn’t _want_ to go now, but he knows Walt needs the rest.

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

Walt nods and Jesse retreats back to his room. He can’t help but recall how similar all of this is to when he was taking care of his aunt. History does tend to repeat itself. This just makes Jesse’s stomach ache. Walt isn’t going to be around forever. Jesse’s always known that, but it feels a little bit like the end is edging closer and closer. Jesse has _plans,_ though. He’s going to make it to Alaska, and Walt has to come with him. Yeah, just a few weeks ago he wanted to get away from the guy as quick as possible, but… things change. He has no idea how to make this happen, but it’s suddenly become the most important thing. And now… the road trip is more crucial than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

_But if you send for me, you know I'll come  
And if you call for me, you know I'll run  
I'll run to you, I'll run to you  
I'll run, run, run  
I'll come to you, I'll come to you  
I'll come, come, come  
Oh-oh oh, oh-oh oh_

\- Old Money - Lana Del Rey -

2002

Walt observes the class carefully as they take the exam. He’s watching for cheating, but he’s also looking at how his students are reacting to the questions. Some of them seem engaged, like they actually studied for the test and they are going to do well on it. And others look like they’ve never taken a chemistry class in their whole lives and will most likely fail.

Jesse Pinkman matches the latter description. 

But Jesse has caught Walt’s attention for other reasons besides hardly ever handing in homework or never passing any exams or quizzes. The kid almost seems like he _wants_ to do better, but he just… can’t. It’s sort of baffling to Walt, and for whatever reason, he feels like he should intervene. 

Two days later, after marking another F on Jesse’s exam, he decides to talk to the young man.

When the bell rings, Walt tells the class, “Be sure to read chapter 14 before the next class. There may or may not be a quiz on Boyle’s Law.” Everyone predictably groans. “Mr. Pinkman, please stick around. Thank you.”

Jesse sighs, and slams his backpack down on the table. His friends in the class snicker. “Pinkman’s in trouble,” one of them says, and laughs on his way out of the room. Jesse does not look pleased to be in Mr. White’s presence a second longer than is necessary.

“Yo, Mr. White, what is it? I have to, like, get to English class or whatever.”

As much as Walt thinks Jesse _should definitely not_ miss English class, he still wants to talk to him.

“With Mrs. Williamson? I’ll let her know I kept you late. Take a seat, if you don’t mind.”

Jesse exhales and reluctantly sits down. 

“Thank you. Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, you are not passing this class right now. Is there any particular reason why?”

“I mean… maybe I’m just dumb, yo. I’ve never been too good at science.”

“For the record, I don’t think you’re dumb, Jesse. I’ve spoken with some of your past teachers and they said that up until this year, you were actually doing pretty well in their classes. Art, of course, but Mr. Mottram said you made an A- in Algebra 2. If you’re that smart with math, chemistry shouldn’t be too hard.”

Jesse looks a little confused. “Why did you talk to my old teachers? You wanted them to, like, narc on me or somethin’?”

“Well, I’m not sure what ‘narc’ means, but no. I wanted to confirm that you are as bright as I think you can be. Jesse… is there a reason why you’re not doing so well this year?”

Jesse shakes his head. “Nah, man, I just… don’t like chemistry, okay? It’s boring. Can I go now?”

Walt feels like he’s going to get through to this stubborn kid if it’s the last thing he does. He’s on a mission now.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t accept that. Is there… something going on at home? You can tell me, Jesse. I’m a good listener.”

Jesse scoffs. “Yeah, right. I can really see that about you, Mr. White. The best listener ever. Whatever.”

Walt’s next step is to try bribery. “If you tell me what’s going on, I’ll change the grade of your last two tests to a C. That doesn’t mean you’re going to pass the class, but at least it’ll look better on your record.”

Now, this seems to get Jesse’s attention.

“Oh, yeah? You would do that?”

“Yes. That is how much I want you to talk to me, son.”

Jesse nods, but he’s still quiet for a moment. With his beanie hat covering his head, and a huge two-sizes-too-big jacket, long, almost bell bottom-like jeans… he looks like he’s a little boy imitating a teenager. Walt rarely tries to take special interest in students--it hardly ever ends well--but he wants to fix all of Jesse’s problems for some reason. Not that he can, and not that he will. He just… _wants_ to.

Jesse exhales. “Look, my aunt Ginny, she’s gotten pretty sick lately. Her girlfriend left her a year ago and my mom and dad are useless. So I’ve been staying at her house, trying to help her out. I ain’t getting much sleep because she wakes up in the middle of the night with these really bad nightmares. She went to the doctor last week and they think it’s probably cancer, but they have to run more tests to make sure.” 

“Oh, Jesse, I’m so sorry. Your parents, they aren’t helping at all?”

“No, not really. My little brother is like six years old and he takes up most of their attention. So I’m trying to help her because she’s got nobody.”

“That sounds rough,” Walt says, feeling like he’s stating the obvious. But he’s never been the most comforting person. Whenever Skyler is having a crisis, most of the time she’ll call Marie. Not because Walt doesn’t care, he just… doesn’t know what to say. It’s one the flaws he’s least proud of, Walt supposes.

“Yeah. It sucks. Can I go now, Mr. White? Like, I appreciate you caring and shit, but… there’s really not much you can do about it, right?”

“I suppose not, Jesse. But if you need to talk, I’m here. I want you to succeed, you know. I don’t want to be the bad guy here. Let me know if you’re up for some extra credit assignments. I can come up with something.”

“Oh, um, thanks. I’ll definitely talk to you about that. Soon.” 

Jesse gets up quickly and leaves before Walt can say anything else. Well, he tried. He really tried.

Jesse never did ask for those extra credit assignments--shocker--and Walt still had to fail him at the end of the semester. Walt saw Jesse floating in and out of the halls for the next year and always wanted to ask how he was, but... 

It was just easier not to get involved.

2009

On his next walk, Jesse finds a payphone and calls a taxi to the nearest used car dealership. It doesn’t take him long to find a 1996 Nissan Altima, which seems perfect for their needs. It’s powder blue, with 144,239 miles on it, but in good condition. The salesman didn’t blink an eye when Jesse gave him $4,250 in cash; he just handed over the title and Jesse drove off the lot.

Walt nods in approval when Jesse comes home with the Altima. “Nice, nondescript, won’t bring much attention. Good choice.”

Jesse still can’t help but grin when Walt gives him a compliment, apparently about literally anything. 

Two days later, they embark on their road trip. The drive from St. Joseph to Chicago is only about an hour and a half. Jesse is driving and stops at the nearest gas station outside of town to get a bag of Fritos and a Gatorade. He buys a bottle of water and some gum for Walt.

“We can listen to the Dad Rock station if you want,” Jesse says when they’re on the road. “I don’t mind groovin’ out to some, like, Rush or whatever.”

“I never really liked Rush. Steely Dan, now that’s good music,” Walt remarks. “America, Neil Diamond, Barry Manilow… that’s all nice stuff.”

“ _Gay_ stuff,” Jesse murmurs, and Walt shakes his head. Jesse finds the station he thinks Walt will like. Jesse’s actually heard this song, “Heart of Gold” by Neil Young, somewhere before. Wait a minute...

“Yo, I remember when you used this song to talk about elements in class once. I think it was something like that, anyway.”

Walt chuckles. “Wow, you actually recall something about my class? I am shocked. You are correct, though. I use ‘Heart of Gold’ to introduce the periodic table.”

“Ah, using modern music to help the kids relate,” Jesse teases. 

“Yeah, yeah. I guess it didn’t help _you_ , though.”

Jesse clears his throat. “Let’s see… there’s antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium; and hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium…”

Walt laughs. “Okay, so you memorized the elements song. You still didn’t pass. Plus you thought wire was an element, remember?”

“Yeah, thanks, _asshole._ I had to retake the class in summer school and I actually did pass it. The teacher played us that song--and _not_ ‘Heart of Gold’--and something about it just stuck with me.”

Walt looks thoughtful. “Who was your teacher? Ms. McCoy?”

Jesse whistles. “Oh, yeah. Ms. McCoy. Maybe she had something to do with me passing.”

“She was a very attractive woman, I’d have to admit,” Walt says. 

“Yeah? Did you have a few dirty chemistry fantasies about her?”

“No… I don’t think so. I had the real deal at home,” Walt says, and Jesse feels a pang in his gut that he realizes must be jealousy. Jesse knows he’s an attractive guy, but if he somehow has to compete with Skyler in the looks contest, she would obviously always win. 

Walt hardly ever mentions Skyler anymore, but Jesse knows how much he misses his family. It has to be so hard.

“Yeah, Skyler’s a real babe.”

Apparently desperate to change the subject, Walt says, “Well, I’m just glad you learned chemistry from _someone._ ”

“Yo, it’s not that you were a bad teacher, Mr. White. I was just going through some shit during that semester. I was real distracted.”

“With your aunt,” Walt says. Jesse nods.

“That’s when she was first diagnosed with cancer. Rough times, man.”

Jesse grips the steering wheel a little tighter as he thinks about how Walt is going through the same things Ginny did. What’s worse is that he knows what’s ahead for Walt, and it’s not pretty. God, it’s just so unfair.

Perhaps sensing what Jesse is thinking, Walt puts his hand on Jesse’s shoulder, just as Jesse did when Walt was having his coughing fit. Jesse instantly relaxes a little. 

“It’s okay, Jesse. I’ll figure something out when we get home. I promise.”

Jesse nods, and Walt turns up the radio. They drive for almost an hour before talking again, when they come up to the outskirts of Chicago.

“Well, where do you want to eat?” Walt asks, looking at some Chicago guidebook he picked up at the gas station.

“Dude, I ain’t coming to Chicago without eating the deep dish pizza. Duh.”

“Okay, I suppose that can be arranged.” Walt pages through his dumb book and finds a top-rated pizza joint. Then he looks at an actual map in the glovebox since they don’t have phones with GPS. 

“God, it’s like Stone Age shit with us,” Jesse says as Walt studies the map. “I kinda like it, though. It helps me find other things to do with my brain; other ways of thinking.”

Walt gazes at him and grins a little before getting back to the map. This makes that familiar warmth spread through Jesse’s body. It’s kind of embarrassing how much he wants Walt’s approval. Plus, Walt looks hot in his studious glasses and beard. Man, they’re really going to have to do something about this shit soon or Jesse’s gonna explode.

Jesse locates the restaurant after taking some wrong turns, and they find the darkest corner to sit in; it’s 2:00 in the afternoon so it’s not very crowded, anyway. They are taking a huge gamble just being out in public, but they figure Chicago is far enough away from Albuquerque for the heat to be lower. Ed would just fucking kill them, though. 

They look very different from the pictures in the newspaper and on TV--Jesse’s hair is almost what would be considered long at this point, and he has a nice, manicured beard. Walt’s hair has grown back and he also has a beard. They are two hairy individuals presently.

The waitress is young and cute, and clearly fascinated with Jesse. Jesse gives her his best blue eyed smile and she remains in a trance the rest of the evening. She doesn’t even give Walt a second look, which is fine with them.

Jesse orders the mozzarella sticks as an appetizer and Walt gets a salad. He barely picks at the pizza when it comes, which Jesse tries not to bother him about. 

“This pizza… is literally just as good as sex. Maybe even better than sex,” Jesse says in between bites. “I would marry this pizza.”

“Maybe you just need to have better sex,” Walt says uncharacteristically, and Jesse laughs, although it’s somewhat of a nervous laugh. Is he… flirting with Jesse? 

“Or just a better partner,” Jesse says, looking right into Walt’s eyes. If he wants to flirt, two can play at that game.

Walt meets his gaze for a moment. But it’s a long moment. It’s a meaningful moment. Jesse may be full of pizza and beer, but he knows there’s something between the two of them and it isn’t food. 

Walt, of course, goes right back to his salad as though nothing happened. Which, Jesse supposes, it didn't. 

They finish eating and get back in the Altima. Their plan is to drive to St. Louis, go see the Arch, and then have a late dinner. This all seems like a good plan in theory, but Jesse is so full from the pizza, and Walt is so tired from the driving (and, well, from the cancer) four hours from Chicago to St. Louis. So they just head straight to one of the less-scary motels in St. Louis. 

“You know, we could stay at the best hotel in Missouri tonight. With a huge suite, room service, maybe swim in the pool…” Jesse says this like he doesn’t know why that’s a terrible idea.

“Yes, I suppose we could. We _could_ also just announce to the front desk clerk that we are on the FBI’s Most Wanted list and could they please arrest us so we can spend the rest of our lives in prison?”

“Yeah. That would be bad-ass though,” Jesse says. Walt shakes his head. He puts on his baseball cap and sunglasses and checks into the motel under the name Mr. Mayhew. 

Their room is good enough. It has two queen sized beds and it smells vaguely like a mixture of pot smoke and cat pee, but it’s fine. 

Walt doesn’t even take off his shoes before he gets in bed under the covers and falls to sleep like a three month old baby. It’s only 7:15 PM. Jesse shakes his head, but he wants Walt to get his rest. He turns the TV on--he hasn’t watched cable TV in months. He carefully avoids any news channels, and settles on a rerun of Criminal Minds. He gets his notepad and pencils out of his backpack and for the next couple of hours, mindlessly watches TV and sketches anything that comes to mind. 

Walt stirs around 10:00. Jesse’s so deep into his sketch of a dark-haired woman (who resembles both Andrea and Jane somehow) wielding a machete in a field of tall grass, he doesn’t notice Walt sitting up and surveying his surroundings.

“Jesus. Did I really sleep for two and a half hours?”

Jesse emerges from his drawing. “Yeah, man. And snored like a rabid rottweiler, too.”

“Huh,” Walt says. He starts coughing--it’s another rough one. Just because he doesn’t know what else to do when this happens, Jesse gets him a glass of water from the sink in the bathroom and sits down next to him on the bed.

A few minutes later, the coughing subsides.

“Mr. White…”

“Jesse, please. I know you’re worried about me. We’ll talk about it when we get home. Let’s just enjoy our road trip. Which I suppose was cut short tonight. Are you hungry? Sorry I fell asleep before you ate.”

“No worries, there’s a Taco Bell across the street. I loaded up on nachos and shit. I got you a quesadilla because I thought that was the least-worst thing on the menu.”

Walt nods. “Thank you.”

Because Walt is a sitting duck and because Jesse just wants to, he wraps his arms around him and gives him a tight hug. Instead of protesting or saying some snide remark, Walt puts his head on Jesse’s shoulder for a second. They stay like this for a good amount of time. Jesse wants so much _more_ than this. Why doesn’t Walt?

Eventually Jesse goes back to his side of the room. Walt slowly eats his quesadilla while they watch a 30-year-old episode of Family Feud. 

When Jesse can’t keep his eyes open anymore, he goes to the bathroom and brushes his teeth. He strips down to his boxers and walks back to bed. He doesn’t miss Walt staring at him as he walks by. Fine, great, Walt is attracted to him. That’s the fucking easy part. He’s never going to do anything about it. They’re going to be in this limbo shit forfuckingever, and Jesse just has to deal with it because Walt is dying from lung cancer. What a wonderful situation he’s gotten himself into. 

Jesse turns his light off and curls up under the covers. He wishes Walt would join him. He wishes Walt would come over to his bed and touch him gently, explore him, get to know all those lean muscles and hip bones and dragon tats that he likes to enjoy from afar so much.

“Good night,” Jesse says, because what he wants to say is, “What the fuck is your problem?”

Walt surprises him by actually addressing the elephant in the room. “Jesse… I know there are things we should talk about, or do, or say. _I know._ I need… time. Can you please just give me _time?_ ”

Jesse struggles to figure out how to respond to this. He wants to be mad and say some angry shit, but Walt put himself out there. He’s trying.

“I don’t know, man. It seems like _time_ is the thing we have the least of right now,” Jesse says sadly. “And, like… we don’t have to _talk_ , Mr. White. There’s actually so many things we can do other than talk.”

Walt doesn’t reply. Maybe he realizes talking won’t solve anything, anyway. Jesse figures Walt is done trying to reach out for the evening, and so he closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep. Sleeping is better than the crushing feeling of disappointment he’s currently dealing with, he thinks.

Jesse doesn’t know how much time passes, but as he drifts in and out of sleep, he feels Walt get in bed with him. He hopes it’s not a dream.

“Come closer,” Walt whispers. Jesse turns around and looks at Walt. Walt is gazing at him in a term Jesse can only describe as “lovingly.” It makes his insides ache. Because the way he's looking at him exactly matches Jesse's own feelings. It's too much... and it's not enough.

Jesse scoots closer to him and puts his head on Walt’s bare chest. Walt strokes his hair, which seems to fire off every single one of Jesse’s nerve endings.

“Is this okay?” Walt whispers in his ear.

“Yeah… it’s okay,” Jesse whispers back.

They fall asleep like this. Jesse knows everything will be a little harder now, because they have so much at stake. But he’s ready to take the risk.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post a second chapter today, in honor of Aaron and Bryan's virtual Dos Hombres happy hour this evening that I totally haven't been counting the days in anticipation of.

_My baby lives in shades of blue  
Blue eyes and jazz and attitude  
He lives in California too  
He drives a Chevy Malibu_

_And when he calls  
He calls for me, not for you  
He lives for love, he loves his drugs  
He loves his baby too_

_But I can't fix him, can't make him better  
And I can't do nothing about his strange weather_

\- Shades of Cool - Lana Del Rey

*****

In the morning, Walt wakes up first, as usual. When he realizes Jesse is all wrapped up in him, with his arms and legs intertwined with Walt’s own, his first instinct is to jump out of bed and run as far away as possible. But then he relaxes and remembers that this is actually what he wants. More than that, it’s what he needs.

Jesse wakes up when he feels Walt stirring. 

“Hi,” Jesse says, his voice adorably hoarse and scratchy. 

“Good morning,” Walt replies. 

“You stayed…” Jesse says, grinning slightly.

“Of course.”

“I’m glad…”

Walt wants to kiss Jesse more than he’s ever wanted anything, but it _still_ doesn’t seem like the right time. Jesse defuses the situation by jumping out of bed before either of them can think about it for too long.

“I’m gonna shower. Are we hitting the Arch this morning?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Rock on,” Jesse says, and then escapes to the bathroom. Walt tries not to think too much about Jesse’s naked body under the spray of water. Well, he thinks about it a little.

****

It’s Jesse’s idea to go to the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, because he’s never been there before, and, well, it’s something to do. Walt goes along with it since Jesse seems excited about the trip, and apparently his new goal in life is to make Jesse happy.

On the three minute tram ride up to the top of the Arch, in which they have a car all to themselves, Jesse even lets Walt tell him the entire history of it. 

“We’re traveling up 630 feet,” Walt says, and this is off the top of his head. “It’s the world’s tallest arch, and it’s the tallest man-made monument in the Western Hemisphere.”

“Wow, that’s really interesting,” Jesse says. “I love that you just… know all this stuff.”

Walt can’t tell if he’s bullshitting or not, but he decides to believe he’s being earnest. Walt continues the history lesson while Jesse at least pretends to listen. Before they get to the top of the arch, Jesse grabs Walt’s hand for a second. Walt is somewhat startled by the sincerity in Jesse’s eyes. Jesse’s enticing, soulful blue eyes. 

At the top of the Arch, they walk around the air-conditioned platform, weaving in between what seems like thousands of families with young kids, peaking out of the windows, high above Missouri on one side, and Illinois on the other. For some reason, this is all making Walt weirdly emotional. In this random place that he’s never been, looking out at the blue sky, the sprawling Mississippi River, while questioning his own mortality… it’s all weird, and Walt just wants to go home. But he doesn’t know where _home_ is anymore.

They take the tram back down to the bottom, making small talk. This time, Walt is the one who grabs Jesse’s hand, which startles Jesse. He looks up at Walt and smiles like he’s on some kind of mystical joy ride through heaven or something, and not just traveling down an arch in Missouri. 

Jesse suggests they go to the museum. Walt knows this isn’t Jesse’s idea of a fun time, but Jesse insists that Walt indulge in his “geeky old man teacher shit,” so Walt walks around and observes the rich history of St. Louis.

They’re in the middle of the Manifest Destiny exhibit when Walt stops short. Jesse almost runs into him. He looks at Walt curiously. Walt indicates to walk over to the painting of a stately-looking captain of a ship or something. 

While Jesse is maybe trying to figure out how in the world this painting is relevant to his life, Walt leans in and whispers, “This is all I can give you.”

Jesse understandably looks quite confused.

“What, a painting of a little bitch sailing a boat?”

“No, that’s not--I mean, our life. Right now. This is all I have, Jesse. It’s never going to be more than this. We’re always going to be hiding out among crowds, or going to dinner at 5:00 PM, or staying in shabby motels. A life on the run… it’s not a real life. _This_ is all I can offer.”

Jesse looks over at him, probably in disbelief that Walt is choosing to have a major life discussion with him in front of 6,000 kids and their parents roaming around the museum. 

But Walt _needs_ Jesse to know that, and he can’t wait another second to tell him. He has to get it off his chest. It’s obviously the wrong place _and_ the wrong time, but Walt has never exactly been known for his people skills.

“You don’t think I’ve been around your ancient ass for a whole year in, like, a dozen different life or death situations, to not know what you can _offer_ me? Jesus.”

“So…”

“ _So,_ we’re stuck together for now. We might as well take what we need from each other, if it benefits both of us, right? It’s like, simple mathematics, yo.”

This does oddly make sense to Walt, but he’s still unsettled. He needs to make it clear to Jesse that--

Jesse grabs Walt’s arm and drags him through the doors of the museum to the empty courtyard. 

“Yo, I get it. You think you’re old and you’re dying and I’m young and naive, but I know what I want. You and I are going to make it to Alaska. We’ll adopt a dog, and I’m going to learn carpentry while you find a class to teach at the community college. It’s just as simple as that.”

Walt chuckles. “I see you have this all planned out.”

“Yeah, bitch, I do. So don’t fuck it up by asking so many goddamn questions. It is what it is, Mr. White.”

Walt nods, trying to hold back a smile.

Jesse gives him a quick smack on the ass, and then goes back inside to the museum. 

Walt’s always wanted to go to Alaska.

*****

For dinner, they go to a much-raved about Italian restaurant called Charlie Gitto’s On The Hill. They decide to splurge and get a nice bottle of wine, some filet mignon, and seafood risotto. For Walt, it almost feels like a date, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

“So tell me more about this Alaska plan of yours,” Walt says.

Jesse’s eyes literally light up, which Walt thinks is endearing as hell. 

“I mean, I don’t have it _all_ planned out yet, but I figure we find a nice cabin in, like, Fairbanks or something. We’ll adopt a stray dog that needs a good home. I guess you bein’ a teacher might not work for a while, until people forget about us. But meanwhile, you can, like, write a book. I bet you have a lot of stories in you, Mr. White. And I’ll be a carpenter. I’m really good with my hands.”

“I bet you are,” Walt says before he can help himself.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Walt very much _would_ like to know, but it seems like a bad time to admit that.

Plus, Jesse’s Alaska plans are just making him sad. He wants that future so much for him--he can picture Jesse hammering nails into a wood frame, or wearing a big winter coat with a wool hat on, or walking his dog through the snow-capped mountains. He can even picture the two of them in a cabin, sleeping under two heavy comforters by a fire, holding each other to stay warm. 

But it seems so far away. 

It seems like only a dream.

Once again, this is something Walt keeps to himself. He doesn't want to ruin the moment. 

“I think that sounds like a good place to start over. Hopefully Ed will give us the go-ahead to leave Michigan soon enough. I suppose he’s still waiting for the heat to die down a bit more. I guess we’re not helping with this particular road trip…”

“Fuck it, he’s not the boss of us,” Jesse says. He pours himself another glass of wine. Walt finds himself fixating on Jesse’s lips as he drinks it. This does not exactly go unnoticed by Jesse.

“Well, he actually is at the moment, but I digress,” Walt says.

They’re quiet for a while as they eat like they haven’t been near a plate of food in weeks.

“Yo… I think that dude over there in the ballcap has been starin’ at us,” Jesse whispers. “I noticed it a few minutes ago and he hasn’t stopped looking over here.”

“Damn,” Walt says. He subtly looks over to where Jesse’s eyes are focused. Sure enough, a tall man in a Bulls hat is looking at them with some serious intensity.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to get up and go to the bathroom, then three minutes later, you leave out of the front door. I’ll meet you by the car. If he follows you, just… I don’t know, scream or something.”

“I have a better idea,” Jesse says.

“Oh, yeah? And what is that?”

“Let’s just fucking get out of here now and run our asses to the car.”

Walt looks down regretfully at his half-eaten filet mignon. “Fine. Give me a head start, though. I’m not as fast as you.”

“No shit,” Jesse says. Walt gets up and walks quickly to the entrance. Jesse joins him a few seconds later. They hurry to the car and peel out of the restaurant parking lot.

“Holy crap,” Jesse laughs as soon as they’re on the road again. “Oh, shit, we didn’t even pay the bill.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the least of our worries. What if this guy talks? Ed will not be pleased, to say the least.”

“What’s the douchebag gonna say? That he saw two fugitives eating steak at a restaurant in St. Louis? Nobody’s gonna fuckin’ believe that, Mr. White.”

“That’s true,” Walt says, but he’s actually not so sure about that.

Jesse looks in the rearview mirror and frowns.

“What? What do you see back there?” Walt is paranoid now, but probably for good reason.

“It looks like Mr. Douche is tailing us. Doesn’t it look like the same dude to you?”

“Yes. Yes, it does. Oh, god. Let me think.” Walt closes his eyes and buries his head in his hands. While Walt is busy freaking out, Jesse maneuvers the car into the right lane, and then guns it, running a red light and just barely misses getting hit by some old lady in a Cadillac, who gives him the finger as she drives by. 

“What in God’s name, Jesse?!”

“Just trust me, Mr. White. I’ve seen ‘Drive’! I know how to lose this guy.”

“Don’t do anything stupid--”

The guy has somehow found them again, so this time Jesse moves all the way to the left lane, and then turns on a red light, causing a dozen angry drivers to honk at him. He keeps going, running lights, even driving on a sidewalk to avoid traffic. Walt doesn’t know what his role is in this situation, so he just hangs on for dear life. 

Jesse finds a residential street and then pulls over into someone’s driveway. They seem to have lost the guy for now. He turns the car off and the two of them sit in the dark, silent for a few minutes until they’re sure the guy isn’t going to pull up behind them. 

“Yeah, bitch! We lost him!” Jesse finally shouts. “Come on, Mr. White, that was awesome! Up here!”

Walt agrees--that was fully awesome. So he slaps Jesse’s hand, and they both cheer for a second before dissolving into laughter. Walt is surprised he’s having so much fun. In the past, this kind of frivolous joy ride would have sent him into a panic, and Jesse would never hear the end of it.

“Yo, Mr. White, remember the last time we did that?”

“What, participated in a high speed car chase?”

Jesse chuckles. “No, man. When we spent that weekend in the RV. We were so happy when you figured out how much money we were going to make.”

“Yes, followed quickly by despair that we were going to die in the desert.”

“Well, I won’t leave the keys in the ignition this time, I learned my lesson.”

“Jesse,” Walt says softly. Jesse looks at Walt. Walt moves closer to him--as close as the center console will allow--and grabs his neck. He can’t wait anymore. He can’t deny it anymore. He needs this now. And so he finally, _finally_ kisses Jesse.

Jesse doesn’t question it--he sinks into the kiss like it’s the answer to every question he’s never asked. He hungrily kisses him back, eagerly parting his lips. Walt can easily lose himself this way, he thinks. Just ignoring space and time; just kissing Jesse forever in an endless loop. Their tongues meeting, their moans falling into each other’s lips. God, it feels so good to give into the desperate feelings of wanting this man so badly. He wants to devour Jesse until neither of them can even breathe. 

Jesse is the one to pull away, much to Walt’s disappointment.

“Mr. White… I want this as much as you do, but you can’t--you can’t disappear again. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen this time. I can’t handle it--it would break me.”

Jesse looks so… _innocent?_ in the darkness of the night. No… innocent isn’t the right word. _Beautiful,_ Walt thinks. Walt can see the oceans of blue in Jesse’s eyes lit up in the street light. It makes him feel helpless, and also a little dangerous. 

“I’m not disappearing, Jesse. Not anymore. I’m here. Wherever you are--that’s where I am.”

This is all Jesse needs to hear before he pulls Walt back in for more kissing. He clings to Walt’s forearms as they crash into each other’s lips, like waves on the beach. Walt is insanely turned on by Jesse’s little moans. He can’t help but think about what kind of sounds Jesse would make in bed. And on that note...

“Let’s find a motel, and then we’ll ditch the car in the morning,” Walt says when he manages to pull away for a moment.

“Fuck yeah,” Jesse says. He steps on the gas with a determined look on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, like you've never imagined Walt and Jesse flirting with each other at the St. Louis Arch? Where's your imagination?!
> 
> A few other things:  
> \- Rating mayyyy go up in the next chapter. (Spoiler alert - it will)  
> \- Enjoy a sightseeing tour of the ride up the arch - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCJYaMMBUOk  
> (Side note: I've literally never been there and have no idea why it struck me as a place they needed to go)  
> \- Also enjoy the menu of Charlie Gitto's - https://charliegittos.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/the-hill-dinner-menu-20.pdf


	9. Chapter 9

_Dream a dream, here's a scene  
Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby  
Grab my waist, don't waste any part  
I believe that you see me for who I am  
So spill my clothes on the floor of your new car  
Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?  
Is it safe, is it safe to just be who we are?_

\- Love Song - Lana Del Rey -

*****

As it turns out, finding a motel for the night is nearly an impossible task. Mostly because Jesse is so goddamn horny that he can’t think straight. He contemplates parking the Altima on a dark street and just dragging Walt into the backseat, but that seems sort of… wrong for their first encounter or something. As much as he wants to devour the man, and be devoured _by_ him, he knows Walt might want to take it slower. He doesn’t want to scare Walt back into his shell, so he is fully prepared to go at a snail’s pace. Although seeing that Walt is gripping Jesse’s thigh with his left hand, apparently not willing to let go, perhaps Jesse is wrong about this.

“God, are there any motels on the stupid map?” Jesse asks, after he’d been driving around aimlessly for 20 minutes. 

“Yes, if you can just be patient, there’s one in a few miles,” Walt answers, somehow digging his fingers _deeper_ into Jesse’s thigh.

“As long as you keep doing _that,_ there’s no such thing as ‘patience,’” Jesse says. Walt laughs, but it’s a different laugh than Jesse’s used to--this deep sound from his throat that almost sounds like a choked moan. Jesse’s into it. 

They finally find the motel and Jesse rushes out to check in. Six minutes later, Jesse isn’t even finished locking the door before Walt is practically pushing him onto the bed. 

Jesse lets this happen at Walt’s own pace. As Jesse suspected, Walt wants to take his time. He undresses Jesse slowly, admiring and appreciating all the bare skin he encounters as he removes another piece of clothing. After the shirt comes off, Walt kisses the dragon tattoo on his chest, and then slowly makes his way down Jesse’s stomach. He goes back up and teases a nipple with his tongue, and Jesse groans. 

“Hmm, I guess you like that…” Walt says, and teases his other nipple. Jesse wants to grab him and, like, do _more_ , but Walt won’t seem to let that happen yet. 

Walt kisses Jesse’s neck while his fingers continue to play with Jesse’s nipples. Maybe he’s experimenting or something, but whatever he’s doing is making Jesse absolutely insane. 

“God, you’re such a fucking tease,” Jesse moans. 

“Patience, Jesse,” Walt whispers in his ear. “Have some.” 

Walt finally makes his way to peeling off Jesse’s jeans. He makes a big show out of kissing Jesse’s inner thighs, nicking them a bit with his teeth. Jesse doesn’t know how much more of this he can take, but again, it’s Walt’s show now. 

Walt takes his time touching Jesse. With each new movement, he looks into Jesse’s eyes to see if he’s responding. The intensity of Walt’s desire for him is overwhelming to him. He moans again and again as Walt lightly strokes his hip bones, his thighs, his chest again, his chest tattoo, his nipples. Finally... 

“Oh, fuck,” Jesse grunts as Walt caresses his cock through his grey boxer-briefs. “God, Mr. White…” 

This seems to spur Walt on more, because he nearly rips Jesse’s boxers in half trying to get them off. When he’s managed to throw them on the floor, he stares at Jesse’s hardness for a good 20 seconds or so. Jesse doesn’t know if Walt likes what he sees or if he’s scared of what comes next. He doesn’t say anything; he needs Walt to decide his own fantasy of how this happens. 

Soon enough, Walt wraps his hand around Jesse’s dick. Jesse gulps. His hand is so warm, and so… like, comforting? 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yes… god, it’s so fucking okay.” 

Walt again experiments; with the pressure, with the grip, with the motion. Eventually he settles on one hand lightly cupping Jesse’s balls while the other pumps up and down; in perfect rhythm with Jesse’s moans. Jesse knows he isn’t going to last much longer; he’s been waiting for this for weeks, possibly months, and the anticipation is just too much. Walt senses this. 

“Jesse… look at me. Look at me when you come.” 

Jesse opens his eyes and looks into Walt’s. This is almost a mistake, because Walt’s eyes are so full of love and pure _wanting_ that it makes Jesse even more emotional than he is. And that’s when he comes--an explosive orgasm that rocks his entire body. 

Walt goes to the bathroom and comes back with a wet washcloth. He helps Jesse clean himself off. It’s surprisingly tender. 

Although Jesse usually needs a minute or two to calm down after an orgasm like that, he can’t help but pull Walt back down on the bed and kiss him. God, he loves kissing Walt, because Walt puts every ounce of passion he has into it. Like, the man is not holding back and Jesse appreciates that about him. 

Jesse thinks about teasing Walt just as much as he teased him, but Walt seems to be in a hurry now. He takes his own pants off like they’re on fire. 

“I’m guessing you don’t need much foreplay, then?” 

“No... no time like the present.” 

Jesse is sort of amused by how badly Walt wants this, but he’s mostly just, like, enamored with the whole situation. He wants to make this feel good for Walt. He wants to be his best student. 

He’s obviously seen Walt in various stages of nakedness a hundred times by now, but he takes a minute to appreciate his body in a totally different way now. He’s lost weight since the first cook they did in the desert. His chest is solid, like a safe haven for Jesse to rest his head. His eyes are a sea of blue green, his lips are always tender and ready for Jesse’s own. 

Jesse tosses aside Walter’s tighty whities, and doesn’t waste any time putting his mouth around Walt’s cock. It’s a little bigger and thicker than Jesse’s. It’s so fucking hard, and Jesse can’t even get all of it in his mouth. This is not actually his first blowjob, but it’s the first one he wants to get exactly right. 

“Oh, god, Jesse… that feels so good…” 

“Yeah? Wait another minute or two,” Jesse teases, and goes back to doing some of his best work. He licks the pre-come off of the head, and Walt groans in an almost primal kind of way. 

Jesse continues to lick the head, and then slowly back down to his balls. 

“Look at me,” he says, because that was a good idea Walt had, actually. And because he wants to see his face when he comes. 

Walt looks at Jesse. “Jesse… _My_ Jesse... “ 

Jesse feels himself getting hard again, and he doesn’t ask himself why Walt calling him that is what caused it. That’s a question better left unasked. 

It only takes another minute or two of Jesse licking and sucking and touching and nipping for Walt to say, “I’m coming…” 

Jesse nods, and Walt spews into his mouth. Jesse greedily swallows it. 

Walt hands Jesse a bottle of water; Jesse drinks it all in one gulp. 

“Thanks,” Jesse says shyly. “I mean… for everything.” 

“Thank _you._ I…” Walt shakes his head, like he’s embarrassed to keep talking. 

“What? Come on, you can say it…” 

“I’m a 51-year-old man, Jesse. There’s not much in my life that surprises me anymore. But that--and _you_ \--surprised me.” 

“In a good way?” 

“Yes… in a good way,” Walt says softly. He leans in to kiss Jesse, rubbing a thumb on his cheek. Jesse feels so protected and cared for that it’s quite alarming and overwhelming, but… he doesn’t want it to end. 

Walt turns off the light and they curl up together. Apparently this whole sleeping together thing is the new normal. 

*****

In the morning, as soon as they wake up, they enjoy a repeat performance. Walt can’t believe this is happening--that Jesse even _wants_ this to happen. But he is eager for Walt’s touch; not only that, but he seems to enjoy giving Walt as much pleasure as possible, too. It’s a little intimidating and overwhelming, but Walt is too busy indulging in the passion that he doesn’t question it.

“I’m still pissed, you know,” Jesse says. He’s nuzzling into Walt’s bare chest, placing small kisses on his neck and the corners of his mouth. They’re enjoying the afterglow of their mutual morning orgasms.

“Hmm, yes, you seem very angry right now,” Walt replies. 

“Shut up. I am.”

Walt senses that Jesse has something to get off his chest, but he doesn’t know if it’s related to something Walt said five minutes ago or it's deeper than that. It’s always hard to tell with Jesse.

“Okay, tell me why. Clue me in here, Jesse.”

Jesse is quiet for a moment, and then he untangles himself from Walt. He props himself up on his elbow and looks at Walt seriously. _Oh,_ Walt thinks. So we’re being serious now. Trying to guess Jesse’s moods was almost as hard as navigating Skyler’s. The two of them are obviously very different humans, but when it comes down to it, their emotions are what guide them. Walt can’t relate.

“Don’t get it twisted, Mr. White. Just because we’re doin’.... _this_ doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. The whole thing with Brock… when I came over to confront you and you turned it all around on Gus, making me think _I_ was crazy for thinking it was _you_ who poisoned him. God, the lengths you went to makes me sick, even all this time later. All you ever do is _talk._ It's infuriating.”

Jesse shakes his head, like he still can’t believe it. Walt can’t believe it either, actually. It seems like that was all a lifetime ago.

“Do you know how many times I defended you, practically _begged_ Gus not to kill you? And this is how you repaid me? Brock almost died, man. He probably would have if I didn’t tell the doctors about the ricin. I just keep going over it in my head and I don’t understand how you were capable of even coming up with the idea.”

Jesse finally runs out of steam and exhales. He reaches into his leather jacket that he threw on the floor last night and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He usually doesn’t smoke anywhere close to Walt, but apparently he’s breaking his own rules now.

“May I speak now?” Walt says tentatively.

“Whatever.”

“I realize what I did is indefensible. But you have to understand where I was coming from at the time. Gus had just threatened my entire family. Once he saw that you were capable of running the lab by yourself, I became expendable to him. The only thing keeping me alive was your threat of walking if he killed me, but that was only going to buy me a little time. I was in a different headspace, Jesse. Everything had gotten so far out of hand and I had to do something extreme to stop it. I know that doesn’t make it better. I… don’t know what else to say.”

Jesse is listening, but Walt’s speech didn’t seem to move him much. 

“Then why’d you have to kill Mike? He was out, yo. Gone. All he did was try to manage our business, and you fought him on every single decision. And then you killed him. I don’t even know how, or where, or when, but you did it. Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not going to deny it. But I had my reasons for that, too.”

He’s prepared to tell Jesse why he killed Mike--while leaving out the part where he could have just gotten the goddamn list of Mike’s guys from Lydia instead--but Jesse’s already moved on.

“But the most fucked up thing is the ricin cigarette.”

“Now, come on, Jesse, I did that--

“No. No, Mr. White, there’s no possible way you can defend that shit. You had me searching my whole _life_ for that thing, and you had it the whole time. _You planted it in my Roomba_. And then you had me on the _floor_ making me believe _I_ was crazy. Touching me... massaging my shoulders or some shit to what, comfort me? Like… how could you even do that?”

Walt sighs. He tries to bring Jesse closer to him, but Jesse won’t budge. Which, of course, Walt deserves.

“You still thought I was just some junkie imbecile, right? Some idiot kid you just had to deal with to make your meth money. You never gave a shit about me, man.”

Jesse is crying now, of course. Walt wants to disappear. He never thought he “got away” with all the things he inflicted upon Jesse, but he figured that Jesse, if he hadn’t at least forgiven him, had moved on from his anger. Walter wonders why he ever could have thought that was possible. He put the poor kid through so much, and his rage is totally justifiable.

Jesse at least lets Walt put his arms around him and hold him tight. He cries into Walt’s chest.

“Jesse. I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am for… everything. I know I was hard on you, I know I called you names, I know I made your life miserable. I can’t excuse it. I can just try to make it up to you.”

Jesse nods, but he can’t seem to stop the tears from falling. Walt realizes that Jesse _needs_ this, that he’s probably wanted to get it out of his system for a long time.

“If it’s any consolation, I didn’t exactly come out of the situation scot-free. I _did_ have to say good-bye to my family. I _am_ living life on the run. So… things didn’t turn out so well for me, either.” 

Jesse sniffles. “Yeah… I guess that _does_ make me feel a little better.” He pinches Walt’s arm. Apparently now Walt is at least a little bit forgiven? He’ll go with it.

"And I will literally spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you."

Jesse actually laughs at this. "However long that may be."

"However long that may be," Walt echoes sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [Porkchop_Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches) for the endless patience to listen to me insanely ramble about dumb things.


	10. Chapter 10

_Everytime that we run  
We don't know what it's from  
Now we finally slow down  
We feel close to it  
There's a change gonna come  
I don't know where or when  
But whenever it does  
We'll be here for it _

__

__

_There's something in the wind  
I can feel it blowing in  
It's coming in softly  
On the wings of a song  
There's something in the water  
I can taste it turning sour  
It's bitter, I'm coughing  
But now it's in my blood_

\- Change - Lana Del Rey -

*****

They leave the Altima at the motel in the morning and go across the street to the shady-looking used car dealership. Walt picks out a 1972 Ford Bronco (“This was the very first car I ever bought for myself,” he tells Jesse happily when Jesse questions his choice). Again, the salesman doesn’t seem to give a fuck when Walt hands him $5,200 in cash and refuses to sign anything.

On the way back to Michigan, they talk about everything and nothing. Their conversation flows easily. Jesse is like… _happy?_ Or something. He isn’t a total idiot; he realizes this is far from normal. He and Walt definitely had a fucked up relationship in the past, and Jesse purposefully jumping head first into this thing with him is not exactly healthy. So what? Fuck it. It’s what both of them want, so who is it hurting?

Another question best unanswered.

“Yo, should I call you _Walt_ now? Like, is it weird that I’m still calling you Mr. White?” 

“I don’t know… why don’t you try it and I’ll see how it feels.”

“Okay. Um, _Walt,_ what do you want for dinner tonight?” It just _feels_ wrong.

Walt considers this. “Hmm, no, I don’t like it. Do you?”

“Nah. Like, when I think about you, you’re Walt to me. But when I address you, I still think in terms of Mr. White.”

“Me, too. So let’s not change anything drastically, right?”

Jesse laughs. “I think it’s a little too late for that.” He can’t stop thinking about getting Walt into bed--any bed--again. They have so much more to explore. He has a few ideas himself.

“Let me rephrase that--let’s not change _much_ drastically.”

“Deal,” Jesse says. 

It takes six hours to drive back to St. Joseph. They’re both exhausted when they get home. 

“I need a nap,” Jesse announces as they walk into the house.

“Me, too,” Walt says, nodding. 

The two of them share a look. Is it going to be weird if they continue this new dynamic now that they’re “home”? It’s funny; they’ve only been gone for two days but now it feels like everything has changed.

Walt breaks the eye contact first and heads into his room. Jesse contemplates going back to his own room, but Walt calls, “Are you coming or what?” 

“Yes, sir,” Jesse answers, and quickly finds his way into Walt’s bed. They make out for a few minutes but are too tired to do anything else. For now.

*****

Walt calls Ed from a payphone the next day. Ed is not ecstatic to hear from him, but he does understand that Walt needs to see a doctor. He tells Walt to call back in a day and he’ll see what he can find out in the meantime. When Walt calls back, Ed gives him the name of a doctor in Kalamazoo, which is almost an hour away from St. Joseph. Not very convenient, but Walt is not in a position of convenience.

Dr. William Bernard has an office in a shopping center and he kind of reminds Walt of Saul. He wears bright ties and has a big, obnoxious personality. Walt instantly hates him. He wants to walk out of the office and never come back. He doesn’t want chemo, he doesn’t want all the medications; he just wants to die on his own goddamn terms. But... Jesse. 

Dr. Bernard performs a battery of tests, which Walt pays for in cash. A week later, Walt goes back in to get the news that he already knows.

"Well, Walter, I'm sorry, but like we talked about before, it's pretty much what you figured it would be," Dr. Bernard says. Walt inspects Dr. Bernard's white jacket for any trace of condiments, but his coat is mustard-free. He is, however, eating a ham sandwich right in front of Walt. So professional.

"The sort of good news is that, from looking at these scans that you brought from your last doctor, the cancer hasn't gotten any worse. It just hasn't gotten any better, either."

"So... how long do I have left?"

"I'd say six months at the longest, But as you know, it could be longer or shorter depending on every circumstance. I know you've been through chemo already, so I'll spare you the details on that."

"And without the chemo?"

"Probably a couple months. Hard to say." Walt doesn't care for this doctor, but he does appreciate that he doesn't beat around the bush or bullshit him. "So I'll let you decide how to move forward. As you've probably guessed, discreet chemo is a bit more expensive than you'd find at a normal clinic." 

"Money isn't an issue," Walt says automatically. "I'll be in touch."

Walt has a lot of time to think about what he wants on the drive back to St. Joseph. He knows exactly what he wants. But... Jesse.

When Walt gets home from the doctor, Jesse is eagerly waiting for him. He looks like a kid waiting for his parents to return from the hospital with his new baby brother or something. An odd comparison, but apt, Walt thinks.

“So? How was it? Did he give you good news?” 

Jesse is somehow even more optimistic than Skyler when Walt was first diagnosed. Walt is amazed at Jesse’s idealism after everything he’s been through. Once again, he wonders how Jesse could ever have forgiven him; how he seemed to go directly from hating him with everything in his soul to caring for him so deeply. It's like he pulled a switch or something. Walt will _never_ feel worthy of this young man’s love for him. It’s overwhelming.

“Not as such, no. It’s… the same, essentially. Not any better, not any worse.”

Jesse’s face crumbles, but he recovers quickly.

“Okay. Okay, so when do you start the chemo? I can drive you there, no problem.” Jesse goes on and on about how he used to take his aunt to and from the hospital, how he’d cook her meals, rub her feet, give her the medication, help her to the bathroom in the middle of the night… Walt can’t stand it. He literally cannot listen to Jesse talk about this for one more minute.

“Jesse. Please. Come here. Sit next to me.” Walt pats the couch as if Jesse is a dog that needs guidance.

Jesse gives him a sideways look, but joins him on the couch.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and I need you to listen to me carefully, okay?”

“Mr. White, come on, I know what you’re about to say and I don’t _want_ to listen--”

“Please. I need you to _hear_ me.”

Jesse exhales, and then reluctantly nods. He looks ready to argue with anything Walt says.

“Thank you. I’ve decided I am not going to do the chemo. Don’t--don’t interrupt me yet, Jesse. I am not going to do the chemo and that is the decision I’ve made. When I was first diagnosed, Skyler went to great lengths to convince me that it was in my best interest, and I accepted that because perhaps it would work and I would live a long, healthy life. And maybe that worked for a while, but the cancer came back. And I feel that it will keep coming back no matter how much we try to keep it at bay. I hated chemotherapy, Jesse. I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to lose my hair. I don’t want to feel sick and tired 24 hours a day.”

“But… we just… can you...” Jesse can’t seem to finish any of his sentences. It doesn’t matter; Walt understands. He also knows that there’s nothing Jesse can say to make him change his mind. 

“I know. I know, Jesse. But you saw what happened to your aunt, what she went through. I don’t want that. You know what I want?”

“To lay over and die, apparently,” Jesse says bitterly. 

“No. I want to live the rest of my days with you. I want to make dinner with you; I want to argue about which DVD to watch next, I want to yell at you for not putting the tie back on the loaf of bread. I want to kiss you, and I want to listen to you moan when I touch you. I want to watch sunsets and sleep late and take long naps. Please tell me you understand.”

Jesse’s crying, of course. Walt gently wipes his tears away and kisses him carefully.

“Your lips, Jesse. That’s what I want,” he says, getting caught up in the moment, in Jesse’s sweet face, in Jesse’s warm embrace. God, he feels like he’s in the middle of a goddamn romance novel. 

“Can I talk now?” Jesse says when he comes up for air.

“Yes, you may.”

“I think that is bullshit and if I had a choice, I’d want you to fight this thing. But… I get it. I fucking hate it, but I do get it. And I will try to make every day as awesome as possible for you. I want that… for you.”

“Oh, Jesse, you don’t have to make that promise. Just being here with you is enough for me now. It’s hard to explain, I think. You’re young and you have so much to look forward to in the future, so you don’t really understand. But… this is all I need. After everything I’ve put you through… I’m just amazed you’re still here.”

Jesse looks like he has something to say, but he never gets it out. Instead, he grabs Walt’s hand and takes him to Jesse’s bedroom. They spend the rest of the afternoon indulging in their new favorite activity--touching each other until they are both so crazy with want, they can’t take it anymore.

*****

Jesse doesn’t ask Walt how long he has left. He has a feeling, and it makes him ache in every part of his body when he thinks about it for too long.

So they establish a routine. Jesse goes on his walks to the Dunes every morning, and then he comes back for lunch, which they make together. Then they take a nap like they're an 80-year-old married couple. Mid-day has become Jesse’s favorite time, because that's when Walt feels his best. They usually cuddle under a blanket while they watch a DVD--at least that's the intention, but most of the time they end up discovering new--and reclaiming old--ways to get each other off. Jesse is becoming _really_ proficient at giving Walt the best blowjobs of his life. Turns out that Walt likes exactly one finger in his ass but neither of them are allowed to acknowledge that he wants it. 

They have something easy for dinner, like a frozen pizza, since Walt is usually exhausted by about 8:00. He tries to keep his eyes open, Jesse knows he tries, but Jesse usually ends up helping Walt to bed sooner rather than later. Jesse's never tired that early, so he'll watch more TV or draw or just smoke a cigarette outside. He can't believe he's in this situation again, and how it's even fucking harder this time around. Jesse will truly be alone when Walt is gone.

Jesse still manages to have high hopes that they'll at least get to Alaska before that happened. He knows it's way too optimistic and he needs to plan for the inevitable, but where's the fun in that? He also realizes that his heart is going to broken no matter what ensues. You know what? It sucks. It. All. Sucks.

About a month into their new normal, Jesse is in his room, mindlessly doodling in his sketchbook. He’s really thinking about what kind of dog he wants in Alaska and what he’ll name him. It all depends on whatever stray mutt they come across, but he kind of pictures it as a husky. He tentatively has named the husky Niko. Niko likes to sleep in bed with the two of them and keep them warm at night.

Jesse goes into the living room to tell Walt all about the adventures of Niko when he sees Walt on the couch, paging through what looks like a photo album.

Jesse sits next to him. Walt doesn’t try to hide it from him. Instead, they look through the album together.

“Skyler gave this to me before I left. I haven’t wanted to look at it until now,” Walt says. Jesse nods. He knows this is like fucking torture for Walt, so he puts his arm around him. Walt nods at him gratefully.

Walt flips through the pages silently and slowly. Jesse observes a nice, happy family. He's never met Walt's son, but he looks like a good dude. Maybe in another life, they could have been friends or something.

Walt seems to hesitate on one particular picture. It's at the Grand Canyon. Walt had his arm around Skyler, with a young Walt Junior standing between them. They were all laughing at something. Jesse feels like he should ask about this one.

"Were you guys laughing at something there?"

"Yes, actually. There were two deer in the woods just beyond the parking lot that were, well, let's just say it was rutting season. Junior got a big kick out of it. He wouldn't stop talking about it on the way home. Have you ever been to the Grand Canyon?"

"I have. My parents took me there before Jake was born. I really liked it; I used to draw it all the time. My parents promised to take me back, but they got real busy with Jake. Plus, you know, they hated me and all."

"Oh, Jesse, I'm sure they didn't hate you. I imagine it's hard being a parent to a kid with a substance abuse problem. Not that I'm excusing their behavior in any way, but you must understand you probably didn't make life easy for them, either."

Jesse doesn't _completely_ agree with this--he's spent enough time in rehab to know the drug thing was never totally his fault. Since Walt has never had any therapy, he probably wouldn't get it. It's fine. If they had more time together, Jesse would... well, it doesn't matter, does it?

Walt turns the pages. There's a few pictures of Holly near the end of the album. Walt touches them, and wipes a tear from his eye. 

"What do you miss the most?" Jesse asks. He figures Walt is probably in the mood to talk about it a little.

"Oh, the little things, really. Making omelettes for the family on a Sunday morning. Rocking Holly to sleep, touching her tiny little fingers. Teaching Junior how to drive, no matter how frustrating it was."

Walt sniffles, and then realizes he's not the only one who had to leave everything behind. "What do you miss? Your raccoon friend?"

Jesse laughs. At least Walt tried.

"Badger, man. And yeah, I do miss that idiot. And Skinny Pete. Pete is always, _always_ there for me when I need him. He'd give me the clothes off his back. They wouldn't fit and they'd smell bad, but... plus, he could play the piano like a motherfucker."

"Do you miss your family?"

Jesse contemplates this. "I guess. I mean, I kinda have to, right? I miss my uncle Tom a lot. He was my dad's brother. I'd only see him on Thanksgiving but he gave me the best presents. And sometimes we'd go out to the garage and smoke some weed together."

"Sounds like a great guy."

Jesse ignores the sarcasm. 

Walt closes the photo album and puts it back on the coffee table. He sinks back on the couch and lets Jesse hold him, which he hardly ever does. But he needs the comfort, Jesse knows. And as long as he possibly can, Jesse wants to give him at least that much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice light-hearted chapter for you.


	11. Chapter 11

_Cinnamon in my teeth  
From your kiss  
You're touching me  
All the pills that you did  
Violet, blue, green, red to keep me  
At arm's length don't work  
You try to push me out  
But I just find my way back in  
Violet, blue, green, red to keep me out  
I win_

_There's things I wanna say to you  
But I'll just let you live  
Like if you hold me without hurting me  
You'll be the first who ever did  
There's things I wanna talk about  
But better not to keep  
But if you hold me without hurting me  
You'll be the first who ever did_

\- Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey -

*****

Walter White is an intelligent man. Nobody would disagree with that. He is proficient and knowledgeable in all areas of science, including advanced chemistry and physics, and has mastered many challenging fields of study without much difficulty. 

Having said that, Walt is clueless as to how he ended up in this situation. For almost 6 months, he’s been nearly 1,500 miles away from his family. He hasn’t called or tried to contact Skyler at all, and she hasn’t managed to get in touch with him--he’s not sure how she could even if she wanted to. He misses her, and Junior, and Holly. But in a faded picture sort of way, more and more with each passing day. As though that was a different life, and he was a different man. Which, he guesses, he is.

It wasn’t too long ago that he felt a completely contrasting way about Jesse Pinkman. He was often frustrated by Jesse’s lack of motivation; if Jesse wanted to, he could make an effort, he could apply himself! He could really do something with his life. He cared about the boy, but mostly from a distance. He was his former student and current partner, nothing more than that.

And now… he is mystified how so much can change in a short time. His attraction to Jesse _still_ takes him by surprise. Even just _thinking_ about Jesse’s body makes him hard--Jesse’s thin but muscular arms, his slim belly, the slight amount of chest hair, the curve of his neck, the softness of his lips, the oceans of blue in his eyes. Walt will _never_ understand how Jesse is so good to him when he was ready to kill him on more than one occasion. He doesn’t get why Jesse loves to snuggle up to him at every opportunity, burying his face in Walt’s neck, grabbing his hand for comfort, kissing him with wild abandon. Not to mention, Jesse’s unwavering loyalty to him not only feeds his ego, but touches him in a way he had long forgotten how to feel.

The way Jesse moves when Walt is touching him, Jesse’s low moans when Walt is licking his nipple, when he is stroking his hardness, when he is kissing him all over, when their lips meet, when Walt bites his lip ever so slightly. Jesse closing his eyes, sharply exhaling, breathing heavily, almost purring like a cat... Walt has become addicted to it. Everything about it. 

Walt frequently lays awake at night--always with Jesse curled up next to him, clinging to him in his sleep--thinking how things could have gone drastically different for the two of them. And how they still can, if Jesse ever finds out the secrets Walt has been hiding from him.

What if Jesse knew that Walt had come to Jesse’s house in the middle of the night, while Jesse was unconscious from the heroin, and watched Jane literally die right in front of his eyes? Jane, apparently the love of Jesse’s life. Walt lives with that fact every day. Every single day. And he’s worried that someday, he’s just going to blurt it out, and Jesse will never forgive him.

And if only Jesse knew how close Walt was to calling Jack and Todd… if Jesse hadn’t met him in the square that day, or if he _did_ meet him and wouldn’t listen to reason… Walt was _this_ close to ordering a hit on Jesse. He didn’t _want_ to, but he would have. Jesse was so dangerous to him at that time; he couldn’t risk Jesse coming back to his house and finishing the job.

Walt is almost positive that he has no trace left of Heisenberg in him--that was an alter-ego for another time, another place. He can’t even imagine manipulating Jesse in any kind of way. Needless to say, this is another thing that baffles him. For a year, he put many things in motion, trying to keep his criminal enterprise intact, and he pulled Jesse’s strings as though he was a puppet for a better part of that year. How can he go from one thing to another so quickly? He would hazard a guess that what is bothering him the most is… who is Walter White, really? Is he the family man who will do anything to get his way and protect said family? Or is he a man on the run, who has feelings for his former student, his current partner, the boy he is going to spend his days and nights with until his time on this earth is over?

He doesn’t know. And it keeps him awake at night.

*****

It’s always best in the morning.

Jesse usually wakes up to Walt getting back in bed after returning from the bathroom. This usually evolves into super-cuddles, with both of them trying to get as close as possible in the coldness of the Michigan morning. But Jesse’s favorite is when the cuddling turns into more. They start kissing, morning breath and all. Jesse is always eager to touch Walt everywhere that drives him crazy; he may be older with a debilitating illness, but Walt is always wet for him. Jesse loves how quickly Walt responds to his touch.

Sometimes Walt will take him in his mouth; he’s almost academic about it, like he read a book on how to give a blowjob and and he’s trying his absolute best to make it pleasurable for Jesse.

There are still some things they haven’t yet tried. Jesse doesn’t want to overwhelm Walt but he needs him inside of him so badly. He is at a loss as to how to bring it up, though. Walt hasn’t mentioned it--maybe he thinks it isn’t an option, or perhaps he doesn’t _know_ it’s an option. Jesse realizes he’s going to have to ask him about it sooner or later, if he wants to make it happen. Which he very much does.

One cold morning in November, they’re making out intensely. Walt’s tongue is busy flicking Jesse’s nipples, with his hand wrapped around Jesse’s hard cock. 

“Yo… do you want to, like, fuck me?” Jesse blurts out, figuring it’s best to just _say it_ instead of being subtle about it. 

“Um… yes, I do,” Walt says, looking confused but aroused. “Is that something… you want?”

“More than anything else I’ve ever wanted in my entire life?” Jesse says this as a question.

Walt abruptly gets out of bed in the middle of everything and nearly runs to the bathroom. Jesse wants to laugh; why didn’t they talk about this sooner if Walt wanted it as much as he did?

Walt returns with a jar of Vaseline.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Jesse murmurs. 

“Turn around.” Walt says this almost as a command. Jesse’s into it. He turns around.

Walt kisses Jesse’s neck, licks his ear, bites his shoulder. Jesse is already moaning, wanting more of his touch so badly, anticipating the pleasure and the pain.

Finally, Walt gently inserts a lubed finger into Jesse, which makes Jesse gasp. 

“Is that okay? Does it hurt too much?”

“It hurts a little, but in a good way…”

“I’ve never done this before, so tell me if...” Walt says into his ear.

“Yo, it’s not like I have ever done this, either, man. But yeah. I’ll tell you.”

Walt, almost more gentle than Jesse would prefer, sinks his finger deeper into him. Jesse takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He tries to focus on the feeling of fullness rather than the stinging sensation. 

“Two?” Walt asks. Jesse nods.

This obviously hurts a little more, but just past the pain is a pleasure Jesse hasn’t experienced. Walt moves his fingers like scissors, trying to gauge Jesse’s moans with how much more pressure he should apply. 

“Oh, god, Mr. White, that feels sofuckinggood.”

“How about this?” Walt says, and sticks a third finger inside of him. He applies a different kind of tension with this third finger, and Jesse has a sudden sensation that he feels like he’s been missing his entire life.

Jesse moans in a deep, low growl that seems to turn Walt on even more, if that’s possible. Walt kisses his neck and whispers, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Please,” Jesse manages to breathe.

“Turn back over, Jesse. I want to see your face while I’m inside of you.”

Jesse obeys. He looks into Walt’s eyes as Walt enters him. As soon as he does, Jesse feels a fullness he didn’t know his body was capable of, and it’s a truly staggering feeling. 

“Oh, fuck, Jesse… you feel so good, so tight. My Jesse…”

Jesse digs his fingers into Walt’s arms as he pushes into him slowly at first. The stinging sensation almost hurts too much, but as Walt continues to enter him, the pleasure overtakes the pain. Jesse is overwhelmed by the bliss of this new feeling. 

Walt leans down to kiss him, to push his tongue into Jesse’s mouth, claiming him as his own over and over again. Jesse is almost to the point of tears because nothing has ever felt like this before, and he’s worried nothing ever will again.

Walt continues to whisper in Jesse’s ear about how he’s a good boy, how he belongs to Walt, how amazing he feels… Jesse reaches down to touch himself when he can’t take it any longer, and in less than a minute he was coming so hard he almost passes out. Soon after, he then feels something warm filling up inside of him as Walt crashes down next to him.

They don’t talk for a while. They both just stare up at the ceiling, catching their breath.

“Well… that was a good idea,” Walt says. Jesse laughs.

“I always knew you wanted to make me your bitch,” Jesse says. “God, I’m such a homo.”

“You know, in all seriousness, I don’t think you need to label yourself, Jesse. And in any case, you’ll have plenty of time in your life to figure out what your preferences are. Maybe you are homosexual. Maybe you’re bisexual. Maybe you aren’t anything in particular.”

Jesse tries to rush past the fact that Walt is referring only to Jesse’s future and not his own.

“Yeah, I get what you mean. I kinda don’t see myself being with a dude in the future. But who knows. Maybe another chemistry teacher will come along and blow me one day.”

“He better not,” Walt mutters.

Jesse laughs. “What, are you jealous of this fictional teacher? You’re so lame.”

“I’m the only chemistry teacher that gets to blow you,” Walt says. “But I guess if he has more to offer you than this old, cancer-ridden man does... “

“Stop it,” Jesse says, irritated. “You keep saying that, but I seriously doubt any other random teacher out there has, like, 60 million dollars to ‘offer me.’”

“Oh, I see. I’m just your sugar daddy now.” Walt doesn’t mind this role, actually.

“Yeah, man. Isn’t that how you see yourself?”

“It is a shame we have all that money and can’t spend it. You better find a nice house in Alaska.”

Jesse doesn’t say anything to this. He doesn’t want to think about being in Alaska alone. It’s still a sore spot in their relationship.

Walt senses the change in Jesse’s mood. He springs up and says, “Oh, I almost forgot…”

Walt goes back into the bathroom and comes out with something in his hand. A lighter, and… a joint?

“Dr. Bernard gave me a few of these. For a price, of course.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jesse says. He waits as Walt lights up the joint and takes a long drag from it. He coughs as Jesse takes his own hit. 

“Oh, shitttt. I forgot how good this stuff is,” Jesse says, falling back into bed. He likes the clear-headedness of being sober, but every now and then, it feels nice just to check out for a while.

Walt kisses Jesse’s forehead. “I’m gonna make some French toast. You get some more sleep if you want.”

Jesse nods as Walt escapes to the kitchen. He smokes a little more. And he thinks about how fucking lucky he is, to be with someone he’s pretty sure he’s in love with, who fucks him senseless, gets him high, and then makes him breakfast.

He just wishes it could last forever.


	12. Chapter 12

A few days later, Walt is watching Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium (for like the 10th time) while Jesse makes dinner. Walt is so tired, so numb, so everything, but he tries to keep his eyes open until after dinner. Jesse insisted on making him an omelette with the New Mexico chilies, and Walt is looking forward to it.

The doorbell rings, and both of them freeze. They've lived in the ugly yellow house for almost seven months without this happening. 

“Who is it? Can you see through the window?” Walt calls to Jesse.

“It looks like some old lady and her son or somethin’,” Jesse yells. “Nobody with a badge.”

Walt gets up from his many blankets on the couch and meets Jesse at the front door. Walt nods at him and says, “Well, they know we’re home, so we might as well see what they want.”

Jesse opens the door. As he said, it's an older woman with white hair, she walks with a cane and looks positively ancient, but harmless. Her companion, however, is maybe closer to Jesse’s age, and immediately looks like trouble. 

“Yo,” Jesse said. “How can we help you?”

“Hello! I am Mary and this is my son Leonard. We noticed you two have lived here for a few months and we’ve never introduced ourselves! How rude. May we come in for a moment?”

Jesse and Walt share a look. They don’t want anyone in their goddamn house, but there’s no reason to be rude.

“Yes, of course,” Walt says, letting Leonard and Mary in. “Please, sit down. We’re making some omelettes if you’d like some.”

“No, thanks, we just ate,” Leonard says, not taking his eyes off of Walt. Walt realizes he must look like a mess to these people. He’s lost some weight, his hair is long and his beard is even longer. Jesse likes the longer hair, but it may seem a bit off-putting to others.

“Well! What are your names?” Mary asks politely.

“I’m--Mike. And this is… Hank.” At the stove, Jesse tries to stifle his laugh. 

“Hi, Mike. What a cute family you two are. How nice it is for a son to move in and take care of his father. Leonard’s doing the same for me. You just don’t see that as much these days.”

“Uh, ma, like I’ve told you before, I don’t think they’re, uh, related,” Leonard says unnecessarily.

Mary pretends she didn’t hear this. “So where are you boys from? I knew the former owners of the this house. They lived here for 48 years! Since it was first built.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Jesse says. “We’re from Albu--Alabama. Yeah, we wanted to live somewhere cold, so we moved here.”

Walt realizes he and Jesse should have planned for something like this to happen. They are obviously not good at bullshitting their way through this.

"Ooh, Alabama. My papa took me there when I was a little girl. I'm from Kentucky, you see, and their college football team was playin' the Alabama team. I don't remember much about it, but I remember it being just a lovely state, so beautiful in the fall."

"Yeah, we never watch football, just basketball," Jesse says. Walt closes his eyes for a moment; transported back to the familiar feeling of wanting to wring Jesse's neck for talking too much. 

"Oh, my daddy never watched that. Well, you know what, I wanted to see if I could ask a favor of you boys."

"Of course, what can we do for you?" Walt says, trying to bite back his impatience with this nice old lady. He just wants to get back to Mr. Magorium under his tent of blankets. Plus, Leonard is still looking at him like he had something to say. 

"Well, from my back porch, I could see that there were some Black Eyed Susans growing in your backyard. Those are the pretty yellow flowers? Anyway, I wanted to ask if I could pick 'em up and take some home with me. We used to have some of those in our garden when I was a little girl and I haven't seen them ever since."

"Absolutely," Walt says. "Jesse, why don't you take Mary out to the garden?"

Jesse looks like Walt just asked him to clean out a barrel after they used it to hide a dead body.

"Okay... surrreee. The omelettes are done, by the way."

Jesse turns the burners off and offers his arm to Mary, who smiles up at him and gratefully takes it. They go outside slowly and carefully.

Walt finally looks at Leonard, who still hasn't taken his eyes off of him.

"So what can I help you with, Leonard? You got something on your mind?" He doesn't have time for bullshit.

"Yeah, I do, actually. My ma and I have been watching the news. At first I was like, no way, we ain't got the fuckin' most notorious meth dealer in the country next door, that would just be weird. But the more I thought about it, and the more I saw your partner here coming in and out of the house, the more I put two and three together. Or whatever."

Walt doesn't react. He barely even gives a shit. If the guy wanted to tell the authorities, he already would have by now. So obviously Walt knows what he wants.

"So. How much do you want? I'm willing to negotiate."

Leonard looks a little taken aback by Walt's non-reaction. "Well, this is how I figure it--I could tell a lot of people about my neighbors. About how they're more than just 'friends,' if you catch my drift. There's a reward for you guys, you know. It's a big one."

"Yeah? How much is it?"

"A million. Yeah, they really want to find you. Not even the kid so much as you. You're the infamous Heisenberg. They'd pay me a lot for the great Heisenberg."

Walt nods. "Well, I'm sure they would, Leonard. How about I give you two million dollars this afternoon and then you get the fuck out of my kitchen?"

Walt watches as Leonard's pupils grow huge, his heart beating along with the greed that's overcoming him. 

"Five million, and I'll never bother you again."

"Three million, and you better fucking not. My partner and I may be out of commission but we know how to hide a body." Leonard wants Heisenberg? Leonard will get Heisenberg.

Leonard finally understands who he's dealing with now. "Fine. Three million."

"I'll have... Hank put it on your porch before midnight."

"Yeah, have 'Hank' do that. And tell Jesse Pinkman to do that, too," Leonard says. Just hearing this fucking scumbag say Jesse's name makes Walt want to destroy him in every possible way. It's funny how quickly he can bring back all the anger after living peacefully for a while. 

"If the name 'Jesse' ever passes your lips again while you're still alive on this planet, you won't be for much longer. Catch my drift?" 

Leonard chuckles, but backs away from Walt's intimidating stare. "Yeah, man. Sorry for talking about your boyfriend like that."

It's a good thing that Jesse comes back inside with Mary, because Walt's patience is now non-existent.

"Well, thank you so much, young man. I'm going to put these in a vase right away and look at them fondly all day." Mary gives Jesse a quick peck on the cheek.

"I'm glad you like 'em, Mary," Jesse says, smiling at her. It's actually kind of sweet, Walt thinks. That is, if her son wasn't a complete waste of a human being.

"Come on, Ma. Let's leave these boys to their omelettes," Leonard says. 

When finally, _finally_ the two of them left, Walt slams the door after them.

"Jesus, that Leonard guy gave me the creeps. What was his deal?"

"Well, let's just say you'll be leaving three million dollars on his porch tonight."

*****

The next day, Walt is in the kitchen making sandwiches when a coughing fit overtakes him. Jesse, who is sitting at the table reading and patiently waiting for his own sandwich, jumps into action and runs to the bathroom to get Walt’s pills Dr. Bernard prescribed in lieu of the chemotherapy. Walt wants to call after him to not bother, but it’s too late. He realizes with a deep sinking feeling that it’s not only too late, but Jesse’s heart is mere seconds from breaking when he finds what else is in the drawer with Walt’s medication. Walt knew he should have hidden it better--what a rookie mistake.

Sure enough, Jesse comes back with the medication looking like he’d just seen a ghost. He gives the pills to Walt, who swallows them without water, and sits back down.

When Walt has recovered enough to talk, he joins Jesse at the table.

Just as Walt suspected, Jesse takes the vial out of his jeans pocket.

“Jesse…”

“Is this really what I think it is?” He says this calmly, but Walt knows it’s just a matter of time before Jesse is no longer in control of his emotions.

Walt sighs. “Yes… it’s ricin. I had it hidden in my house for a while, and I brought it with me here.”

“So… why is it in the drawer with your medications?”

Walt shakes his head. This is not a conversation he’s ready to have yet. But obviously Jesse is not going to let him get away with that.

However, instead of getting upset, Jesse gets up and wraps his arms around Walt. Walt was not expecting this kind of response.

Jesse kisses Walt on the lips, not a sexy kiss, but a loving one. He runs his fingers through Walt’s longer hair. Walt closes his eyes, wishing that this was the end of it and their conversation was over instead of just starting.

“If you don’t want to tell me, then I’ll take a guess. You were planning to check out on your own terms, is that right? Just one day pour this into your coffee, get sick for a couple of days, and then you’re gone. Am I right?”

Walt realizes that there’s no way to avoid upsetting Jesse at this moment. Yes, he may _think_ that he understands, or that he _wants_ to understand, but… 

“Jesse. I feel sicker every day. I’m getting weaker. We just need to face the facts here, okay? I’ve almost made it to my 52nd birthday; the doctor always said I had 18 months to two years. Well. Time is up. And I’m ready.”

Just… rip the band-aid right off.

Jesse shakes his head, clearly not accepting this answer. He gets up and starts pacing the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth. Walt is inappropriately amused that Jesse has picked up this bad habit from him.

“I agreed to the no chemo thing, but how can I let you do this? Just fucking end it? Come on, man. This is not the plan!”

“I know, but the plan has changed. I can’t… I can’t feel like this every day, Jesse. It hurts too much. I’m ready for it to be over.”

“How can you _say_ that? How can you be ready? What about…”

 _Me. Alaska. Us._ Is what Jesse wants to say, but can’t make himself. Walt gets it.

“I’m sorry. I am. If I could, I would beat this thing. I want to be with you in Alaska. I want to write a book and watch you shovel snow from the driveway and drink hot chocolate before bed. I want everything we’ve talked about. It’s just not working, Jesse.”

“No. No! I don’t accept that. We can go to Alaska _tomorrow._ Maybe they have better doctors there. Or they have faith healers or some mystical mountain bullshit. This can’t be the end for you.”

“I’ve thought about every possible scenario, Jesse. Even going to Alaska tomorrow. But I can’t do it.”

“Why the hell not?! Why do you want me to leave you behind?” Jesse is sobbing now. Walt can’t stand it. He wishes he had already taken the ricin.

“Because you deserve Alaska. You deserve a new start. You need to go there and find yourself without me, son. I don’t want to be the ghost in your attic. I want to live in your memory.”

As Walt says this, he understands that it probably doesn’t make any fucking sense to Jesse. Walt has thought about it so much that he’s come to terms with it, but Jesse had no idea this was coming. Just one more way Walt has ruined him.

“Please, Mr. White. Please don’t do this. You know I need you. You know I can’t--”

Walt gets up from the table and embraces Jesse. Jesse resists at first, but Walt is persistent. Unlike the hug they shared in the desert when Walt was trying to send Jesse away, Jesse wraps his arms around him and probably has no intentions of ever letting go.

“You can’t leave me,” Jesse says when he regains composure. “I haven’t even said that I love you yet.”

Walt exhales. “Jesse… my sweet Jesse… I know you love me. I love you more than I expected to feel anything at this point in my life. If I could, I'd live a thousand lifetimes with you.” He feels a little ridiculous saying something directly from a shitty romance novel, but he can't help himself. It's how he feels.

Jesse has moved past the sobbing, but there are still tears in his eyes. His face is crumbling again. 

“But you can’t… right?”

“No. I can’t. You’ll be fine, Jesse. You’ll be _great._ I can picture you so happy in Alaska. It’s where you were meant to be.”

Jesse can’t talk anymore, so instead he just kisses Walt. They find themselves moving to Jesse’s bed, where they kiss for a long time.

Before they drift off to sleep, Jesse grabs Walt’s hand and says, “Please promise me one thing. Do not take the ricin in secret. _Tell me about it first._ I want to be there for every last moment of your life. Promise me, Mr. White.”

Walt sighs. “Yes. I can do that. For you.”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

*****

A few nights later, after Walt turns the light off and Jesse cuddles up to him in the way they’ve established and perfected over the last couple of months, Walt says softly, “I’ve made a decision.”

Walt figures that Jesse obviously knows what this is about, since his grip on Walt’s arm tightens. 

Walt continues. “I checked the calendar. Ed will be here the day after my birthday.”

“Okay… and? I don’t like where this is going…”

Walt swallows. “And… I figure the best time to take the ricin will be the day before my birthday. That way I can...” Walt can’t say it, mainly because he knows Jesse doesn’t want to hear it. “On my birthday. So that Ed can help you with the arrangements when he comes. I’ve left instructions in my top bedside drawer.”

Jesse is quiet. Walt strokes his hair, wishing that they weren’t having this conversation. But Jesse wanted to be a part of all the decisions, and he owes him that much.

“Come on, Mr. White… on your _birthday?_

Walt nods.

“That’s just three weeks away,” Jesse says hoarsely. Walt squeezes his hand. 

“It is.”

“And that’s what you really want? You don’t want to, like, jump off a building? Or I can just, like smother you with a pillow or somethin’.” Jesse’s voice actually had some humor to it, like he’s making fun of Walt.

“As much fun as that sounds, I think I’ll stick with my plan. It won’t be a picnic in the park… ricin poisoning is a bad way to go. But it’s just for a few days and then… if you can’t handle it, I will understand. No need to be ashamed, son.”

Jesse doesn’t respond to this, which Walt understands. Of course he’s going to be there for every second of it. Walt basks in Jesse’s unwavering love and loyalty for him, but it breaks his heart knowing that Jesse’s going to see this all play out. It devastates him to think about how many ways he's broken Jesse's heart in one lifetime.

“God, it was just a year ago that I gave you that watch on your birthday. I didn’t know what else to give you, but I wanted you to have something special.”

“And I didn’t even thank you for it because I was so touched that you, of all people, cared about me the most on my birthday, after everything I’d done to you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t worry--you’re still not forgiven for any of that shit.”

“Good...I don't deserve to be." Walt is quiet for a moment.

"You know, two years ago, just a few days after my birthday, is when I got a look at your lab on the ride along with Hank. And watched you fall off a roof.”

“Huh. I guess your birthday is kind of like our fucked up anniversary.”

“Yeah… yeah, I suppose so,” Walt says.

The two of them are quiet now. Walt lays back down and Jesse gets as close to him as possible without physically merging with his body. Walt was never a sleep snuggler and neither was Skyler--they preferred their own sides of the bed. But as Walt enters the last weeks of his life, he appreciates spending them with someone whom now he can’t even sleep without.


	13. Chapter 13

_The world can change in a day if you go away, but  
Nothing could stop the two of us  
If that's what we want, we could just get lost_

__

__

_And I will never sing again  
And you won't work another day  
I will never sing again  
With just one wave it goes away  
It will be our swan song_

\- Swan Song - Lana Del Rey -

*****

Time is moving too quickly. The days keep starting and ending, and there’s nothing Jesse can do to stop it. He wants to hit the pause button; he wants to cling as tightly to the present as possible, but it is unrelenting.

Jesse goes outside to smoke on the back porch. It’s winter in Michigan, so that means it’s fucking cold. It obviously gets chilly in Albuquerque, but it doesn’t snow much. Since he can’t take his long walks anymore, while Walt sleeps, Jesse finds himself watching the snow fall. It’s actually quite soothing. The quiet music of the flakes coming from the sky gives him a little peace when there’s none to be found otherwise.

He hears the sliding glass door open and immediately he wants to tell Walt to go back inside, he’s going to catch a cold and that’s the last thing he needs. But Jesse bites his tongue, because there’s a week left until Walt’s birthday and he doesn’t want to spend it nagging. Plus, Walt hardly ever joins him outside anymore, so he’s just happy he’s moving somewhere other from the couch to bed.

Walt comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Jesse, covering both of them with the warm blanket he brought out with him. Jesse closes his eyes and tries to remember this moment before it even happens. He’s doing that a lot lately.

“It’s beautiful out here,” Walt says. Jesse nods. It’s almost midnight, and the sky is pitch black; the only light is from the dim hue of the falling snow. Jesse can’t help but think if it’s this nice in Michigan, that the snowfall in Alaska will blow his mind. He feels guilty when he thinks of Alaska--he is going to end up there one day and Walt will not. Jesse’s going to adopt that dog he wants and he’s going to name him Niko, but Walt won’t be there to take Niko for walks. 

“Are you coming back to bed?” Walt asks. He turns Jesse around to face him, and moves an errant hair from his face to behind his ear. It’s a small gesture, but it sparks something deep down in Jesse’s psyche that nearly brings him to his knees. Again, Jesse tries not to let Walt see this weird vulnerable moment. He has too much on his mind to deal with Jesse’s delicate emotions.

“Yeah, in a few minutes. You can’t sleep? Anything I can do to help?”

“Well, actually… I was thinking about something. Something we can do.”

Jesse tries not to get his hopes up because obviously Walt isn’t going to say, “Something we can do when I decide not to take ricin and poison myself.”

“Yeah? I’m listening.”

“I suppose I’m a bit curious about… how it feels.”

Jesse is intrigued. “How _what_ feels?”

“Well. How it would feel if you were to… “

Walt is so cute when he’s nervous, Jesse thinks. He is pretty sure what Walt is trying to say, but just can’t seem to get out of his mouth.

Jesse puts his hands on Walt’s hips and pulls him closer. Walt takes the hint and leans in to kiss him. A long, lingering kiss that Jesse wishes he could freeze and go back to whenever he needs it. 

“Are you saying you want me to fuck you senseless until you can barely move?” Jesse whispers. He knows he has no tact or grace, but that’s part of his appeal, he believes.

Walt chuckles. He has a little bit more of a sense of humor these days, Jesse’s noticed.

“Yes, Jesse. That’s what I want. Thank you for so eloquently stating it.”

“Mmm, yes, that’s a good idea,” Jesse says, kissing Walt’s neck, cupping the bulge in his sweatpants, which seems to be responding to Walt’s idea as well. “Do you want to do it now or do you, like, need time to talk yourself into it?”

“ _Talk myself into it?_ Jesse, I trust you. I… love you. I don’t need to talk myself into you making love to me.”

Jesse wonders how many times his heart can break in one lifetime. 

Walt has only said he loves Jesse, like, twice now, so each time is like a little stab in the chest. In a good way, but… also in a terrible way that Jesse knows he’s going to remember forever. He hopes Alaska has some good therapists.

Jesse pulls Walt in again, kissing him hard and deep, feeling his bulge, wanting him so fucking bad in every possible way. 

“Well, come on then,” Jesse whispers. “It’s fuckin’ cold out here and we have some work to do.”

They go back inside, not wasting any time. In bed, they kiss like they’re trying to consume each other’s souls or something. Clothes are shed and Vaseline is located. 

“Are you ready?” Jesse asks. 

“I’m ready.”

Jesse inherently knows that Walt does not want to talk about this any further; it took all his nerve to even ask for it in the first place. So Jesse delicately and carefully works his fingers inside of Walt, gauging the pressure by the sounds of his moans and his breathing. Jesse is incredibly turned on by the whole thing.

“How do you want to…” Jesse whispers.

“I want to look at you,” Walt murmurs. He turns over and Jesse kisses him deeply while he applies more lube to his dick and Walt’s entrance. 

“Please tell me if it’s too much.” Walt nods. 

Jesse eases into Walt, who lifts himself up slightly to make it easier. They both gasp as Jesse finds his pace. 

Walt grips Jesse’s arms as he goes deeper, and soon they are moving together, both moaning, both too overcome to speak. Overcome with what, it’s hard to say. Love? Desire? Sadness? Heartbreak? It’s all a possibility.

Jesse wants to find the spot that Walt always manages to find for him; he wants to hit Walt’s prostate just right so he can understand how good this can feel. After a bit of experimentation, he finds it. Walt gasps, and grips Jesse even harder. Jesse leans down to take his mouth, crushing his lips against Walt’s. Walt meets his mouth eagerly, crying out, groaning. Jesse, of course, is emotional seeing Walt this way. He’s so vulnerable; so fragile in Jesse’s loving embrace. Also? Jesse had no idea how fucking good it would feel to be on top. Walt is so goddamn tight and warm, and the sensation is like nothing he’s ever experienced. Damn, why haven’t they tried this before? Missed opportunities.

When Jesse’s close, he strokes Walt’s wet, hard dick, and it predictably doesn’t take long for him to gasp and then come all over Jesse’s hand. Seconds later, Jesse can’t take it anymore and he comes so hard inside of Walt that he nearly passes out. 

He collapses next to Walt, who can barely breathe, much less talk. 

“I am so in love with you,” Jesse whispers. “I know you’re going to leave me and that’s okay, but I just need you to know that.”

Walt weakly pulls Jesse closer to him. After a few deep breaths, he says, “I know, Jesse. And you know I love you. And I would never leave you if I didn’t have to. Now… let’s go to sleep. Please. I can’t… I can’t talk anymore.”

Jesse kisses his forehead, and then goes to get them a towel to clean up. He falls asleep with his head on Walt’s chest, trying not to think about what the hell he’s going to do when Walt’s gone.

*****

Walt wakes up too early in the morning and groans. Everything hurts. Although he enjoyed the sex much more than anticipated, he’s paying for it this morning. 

Walt gazes at the sleeping form of Jesse before he gets up. This sweet boy who he’s going to ruin yet again. 

He gets up and finds some of the pain pills Dr. Bernard gave him. He tries not to take too much of those, but he needs them now. It’s six days before his birthday and he can see a light at the end of the tunnel. What’s exhausting him the most is that he can’t express this relief to Jesse. Of course Jesse’s devotion to optimism is endearing, but it would also be nice if Walt, in his last days, could just… talk to him about how he really feels. 

When Walt comes back to bed, Jesse is waiting for him. He opens his arms to him, and Jesse snuggles in. Jesse doesn’t ask how he feels or if he’s okay, because he knows the answers: terrible, and no, he’s not.

“Jesse… may I ask you for a favor?”

“Obviously,” Jesse says, instantly looking concerned.

“I understand your feelings on how I am choosing to deal with my illness. I know it’s hard for you to talk about, and I know you want me to change my mind. But in this last week… can you _please_ do me the favor of allowing me to speak freely of how _I_ feel? I don’t want to censor myself. I would very much like to talk to you, the only person whom I even want to see in my last days, truly and honestly. Is that something you think you can do for me?”

Jesse seems shell-shocked by this request and Walt feels a little guilty for springing it on him so early in the morning. But even as recently as last week...

*****

What Jesse will not accept is that taking the ricin has nothing to do with him. Walt sees death in a completely different way than he sees his relationship with Jesse.

“You have brought me _life_ when I thought nothing else could,” Walt says, already exasperated to be having another endless discussion about the same fucking thing.

“That makes no fucking sense, yo… if I brought you life, why are you so horny for death?”

“Let me see if I can explain it in a different way… you told me about the dog you had when you were nine, right? Cujo, I think it was?”

“Yeah, man. Cujo. What the hell does he have to do with this?”

“Let’s say Cujo didn’t run away like your dad said. Cujo lived to be an old dog, like 14 years old. You had him since he was a puppy and you two had a beautiful bond together. You always knew what he was thinking and he could always cheer you up. Well, Cujo is old, and he has arthritis, and he’s almost blind, he’s totally deaf, and he doesn’t want to eat anymore. Even though he still loves you and sleeps with you in your bed every night, he’s obviously very sick. Although you don’t want to let him go, it would be in his best interest to put him to sleep. End his misery. Right?”

Jesse looks truly disgusted with this analogy, and actually, Walt doesn’t blame him. It was just the first thing that came to his head, and now he realizes what a bad comparison it is.

“Before you say anything, yes, I realize that’s a terrible correlation.”

“Yeah, it really fucking is. You’re comparing yourself to a _dog_ , yo.”

Jesse is quiet, but he seems to actually be contemplating this. Like perhaps he really does understand.

“But… I guess I get it. I do, Mr. White. You can understand my point of view, too, right? It feels like you’re giving up.”

Walt rubs his temples. This is so exhausting. He loves Jesse, but this part of the boy--the side that Walt would always get frustrated with in the RV, the one who wanted to be so stubborn even though Walt _knew_ what was in his best interests… infuriating.

“Yes, I see that, Jesse. Of course I do. But sometimes love isn’t enough. It just isn’t. I’m sorry.”

This conversation ended with Jesse storming off into his room and slamming the door. If he had a stereo in there, Walt is sure he’d be blasting Korn or whatever the teenagers are listening to way too loudly these days.

*****

“Okay. If that’s what you want, and that’s what you need, then I will do it,” Jesse says, nodding. For once, his face is unreadable. Walt touches his cheek, and Jesse puts his hand over Walt’s.

Even the simple act of Jesse saying that he’ll let Walt be honest about his feeling makes him finally break down. Hot tears slide down his face as he lets the reality of the situation sink in.

“I just… I’m _scared,_ Jesse. I know you think I’m looking forward to leaving you, to leaving everything, but I’m not. I don’t know what to…”

“Shh. Mr. White, it’s okay,” Jesse says. He puts his arms around him and holds him steady. “I know you’re scared. I am terrified! And I’m not even the one doing it. But I’ll be there with you the whole time. Okay? I will never leave you.”

“Even though I’m leaving you?” Walt says, and he feels like an idiot for saying it but Jesse is being so… _good_ and Walt can’t help himself.

“I get that you don’t want to leave me. Come on, Mr. White. You’re doing what’s best for yourself.” Jesse kisses him gently. 

Walt inhales and exhales a few times, trying to get back in control of himself. 

“Thank you, Jesse. Thank you for giving me what I need.”

“Yeah, well, if you let me fuck you a few more times, then you can give me what _I_ need,” he says, and Walt laughs. Well, he coughs, and then laughs.

“You liked it, did you?”

“Um, yeah. It was pretty fuckin’ great.”

“Yes, it was,” Walt says. “It was pretty fuckin’ great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things -  
> \- As you've probably guessed, the next chapter is not going to be pleasant. I will post the appropriate trigger warnings at such time, but this is a heads up to prepare yourself.  
> \- Also: if I could, I would write 5,000 words on just these two kissing. So much kissing all the time, every day. I just really want them to do that. Thank you.  
> \- Thanks again to [Porkchop_Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches) for the encouragement of Bottom!Walt.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, y'all - warnings for this chapter includes MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH and TALK OF SUICIDE/SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/LIKE LITERAL ACTUAL SUICIDE. So yeah, you know, an uplifting tale of happy people.

_Doomed from the start  
We met with a goodbye kiss, I broke my wrist  
It all kicked off, I had no choice  
You said that you didn't mind 'cause love's hard to find  
Maybe the days we had are gone, living in silence for too long  
Open your eyes and what do you see?  
No more laughs, no more photographs_

_Turning slowly, looking back, see  
No words, can save this, you're broken and I'm pissed  
Run along like I'm supposed to, be the man I ought to  
Rock and roll, sent us insane, I hope someday that we will meet again_

\- Goodbye Kiss - Lana Del Rey -

*****

There is nothing left to say.

They don’t make any last declarations of love. They don’t hug, they don’t even talk. All the tears have been cried; they are empty, they are raw. 

Walt makes sure Jesse knows what to do. He again tells him about the instructions he left in his top drawer. He wants to be cremated--please have Ed take care of it. There are also some letters he’s written to Skyler, Junior and Holly; he knows Ed may refuse to deliver them, but just in case.

Jesse always nods, always tells him that he knows, he’ll do whatever he asks of him. The dutiful partner.

On the morning before Walt’s birthday, Jesse makes the pot of coffee. Usually Walt does this since Jesse’s not much of a coffee guy, but he insists on doing it today. Walt doesn’t have it in him to say no, plus, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

When Jesse measures out the coffee grounds and puts them in the filter, he’s reminded of a very similar situation once upon a time. At Gus’ factory farm, he was _so close_ to putting the ricin in the coffee to poison Gus. He wants to laugh at how much this fucking ricin has ruined his life over and over again. He’ll be glad to get rid of it, once and for all.

It’s snowing again, and the kitchen is dark and cold. Walt doesn’t sit down when he comes in from the bedroom; he just stands by the sink and waits for the coffee. Walt looks resigned. He seems like he’s ready to go. When Jesse gazes at him from an outsider’s perspective instead of his own, Walt appears thin and frail; he’s lost too much weight, his hair is too long, his beard is unkempt. He’s on his way out. Jesse, however, just sees Walter White--his teacher, his partner, his lover, his literal everything at this point in his life. 

When the coffee is ready, Jesse, with shaking hands, pours a cup for Walt. He pours his own as well; they might as well be in solidarity.

Jesse hands the cup to Walt, who still isn’t sitting down. Walt nods. He takes the vial of ricin out of the pocket of his robe. Jesse stares at it; wants to throw it out of Walt’s hands, but they’re past that now.

Walt carefully uncaps the vial and makes short work out of pouring it into the cup of coffee. As the little white grains drop into the liquid, Jesse can’t take his eyes off of the whole process. He knows this is a long time coming, but still can’t quite come to terms with it. An idea is pounding in his temples and he thinks he’s about to do something that can’t be taken back.

When the entire vial is in the cup, Walt gives Jesse one last, mournful glance. Jesse returns his gaze, but there’s nothing in his eyes. No sadness, no relief, no love, even. This has always been Walt’s decision, and Jesse will stand by him for as long as it takes… but he doesn’t have to like it. Walt closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. He takes a sip of coffee, testing out the taste. Apparently the taste is acceptable.

When Jesse knows there's only a little bit of coffee left, he takes the cup and throws it on the floor so that it shatters. He and Walt both watch the pieces break into fragments. Before Walt can ask him what the _fuck_ he's doing, he grabs Walt's head and kisses him, deeper than he ever has--if that's even possible. Long and hard, deeper and deeper. Walt almost forgets where he is and what he's doing, because he kisses Jesse back, with mounting desperation. Jesse works his tongue into Walt's mouth and licks as much of the coffee remnants as possible, making sure that he tastes the grains of the ricin. Walt catches on to what is happening and tries to put an end to this, but he's weak and Jesse is strong. He continues to taste Walt until there's nothing left in his mouth. 

Walt finally manages to push him back furiously, a hardened look of anger and betrayal in his dull gray eyes.

“Jesse. What the _hell_ did you just do?”

“I couldn’t let you do it without me. I’m so sorry,” Jesse says matter-of-factly. “Actually, I’m not sorry. How could you think I was just going to watch you die without coming with you? Jesus, Walt. How could you not know I was going to do it?"

“You were supposed to go to Alaska. You were supposed to have a better life--without me. You don’t deserve this, Jesse. My god, you don’t deserve to die.” Walt is seething with anguish and rage. This was not the plan. It was never supposed to be the plan.

“I’m the bad guy,” Jesse says, shrugging. ”I always was. Now I always will be.”

Walt closes his eyes, his heart pounding, his soul breaking.

*****

Every year it’s the same. Bored-looking students march into his classroom, seeming like they’d rather be anywhere else. There’s an occasional bright, enterprising student who takes an interest, raises their hand for every question, stays after class to engage Mr. Pinkman in conversation. That’s rare, though. Every year it’s the same, and every year he questions just a little bit more why he ever let a lucrative meth enterprise get away from him, and why he chose to be in a profession with ungrateful kids, annoying internal politics, and a crappy paycheck.

Jesse watches the students come in for his 2:30 PM Chemistry 101 class. These are freshmen, and some of them actually look like they want to learn something. They’ll probably lose that urge somewhere in between the middle and end of the semester, but at least he still has their attention for now.

He looks at the class roster as they file in. Eddie Cheek, Marcia Williams, Mark Wilson. Maya Hernandez and Josh Martin; they look like they’ve been together since the third grade or something. Walter White. This Mr. White looks like a brown noser, Jesse notices right away. He’s tall and broad, with wire-rim glasses that perfectly frame his serious expression. He’s wearing khakis and a button-down shirt. And he just has that look on his face. The one that says he’s excited to be in this class, and he wants to let Mr. Pinkman know all about it.

As always, Jesse starts the class off by writing his name on the board. He’s obviously memorized this first lecture; it’s just easier to say the same thing every time so he doesn’t miss anything. Plus, he's not that creative.

“Chemistry. It’s the study of… what?" Jesse is used to nobody answering this question, but he's not surprised when Walter raises his hand.

"Yes, Mr. White?"

“It’s the study of matter, but I prefer to see it as the study of change.”

Jesse inwardly sighs. Ah, Walter White is going to be _that_ guy. The one who wants to correct the teacher. Great.

“Oh, really, Mr. White? Interesting. Why is that?”

“Because It’s a cycle. It’s solution and dissolution over and over again. It’s growth, then decay, then transformation. I find it to be rather fascinating.”

“Wow, Walter, that’s… great. Thank you for sharing that with us.”

Jesse continues the class, but keeps his eye on this Walter White. There’s something familiar he just can’t place about him; he wonders if he’s had him in summer school or something. He probably would have remembered him, though.

When the bell rings, everyone quickly files out of the classroom. Except, of course, Walter. He sticks around. 

“Yes, Mr. White? What can I do for you?”

Walter’s expression goes from excited teenage nerd to serious middle-aged man. Jesse’s head throbs. Wait a minute. Since when is he a teacher? He doesn’t know anything about chemistry! He only passed it in summer school because Mrs. McCoy was so smokin’ hot and let him look down her blouse if he got an answer right.

“Mr. White? What am I doing here? This is _your_ class. Why am I teaching your class?”

“Because, Jesse. I’m hallucinating this right now. My subconscious is thinking about when we first met. It’s funny; I thought when I died, my first vision would be of Skyler. But I suppose it goes directly to the person I loved the most at the end of my life.”

Jesse feels like the floor beneath him is swallowing him whole. His feet are sinking and his head is floating away from his body. He is pretty sure he’s about to be swept into nothingness. But… everything remains the same. Mr. White is gazing at him like he’s the homecoming queen or some shit.

“Yo, this makes no sense. I thought I drank the coffee, too. I thought I was going with you..”

“No, Jesse. You didn’t drink the coffee. You watched me drink it, and then we went to bed. I hallucinated you drinking the coffee. Hallucinations are one of the effects of ricin poisoning.”

“Fuck,” Jesse says, shaking his head. “That sucks. I was really looking forward to dying right beside you. What a bummer.”

“Jesse. Look at me.” Walt puts his hands on Jesse’s shoulders. “Look at me, son.”

"Come on, Mr. White. No speeches."

"Short speech." 

Jesse sighs and reluctantly meets his gaze.

“You can’t die yet. You have to go to Alaska. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I want _you,_ Mr. White,” Jesse says sadly.

“I know, sweet boy. I know. But you’ll be so happy without me. You can heal. You can be unburdened. I love thinking about you riding around in a pick-up truck with a dog in the front seat, breathing in the fresh air, building a fire every night while you work on your art or you learn how to make things with your hands. You’ll be who you were meant to be, Jesse. I truly believe that.”

"I can see those things, too, Mr. White. I really can. But how am I going to forget you? I don't know how to forget, Mr. White." He's crying. He can't stop crying. "I’ll never forget. I'll never stop loving you."

“You _will_ stop loving me, Jesse. You’re young and free. You can find someone else, or perhaps your memory of me will fade. And that’s okay. I love you so much that I want that for you.”

Walt kisses Jesse’s forehead, and then gives him a slow, deep kiss on his tender lips.

"Wait. Mr. White. Remember when I wanted out of the business and you said that we're pretty much going to Hell, anyway?"

"Yes, Jesse. I do remember." Walt also remembers being a total dick to Jesse that day, but... 

"Do you really believe that? That you're going to Hell?"

Walt considers this. "Not really. Not as a man of science. But if we take science out of the equation, then... I guess it's subjective if that's where I end up or not."

"I mean, we've done some pretty fucked up things, Mr. White. Krazy 8 and Emilio, those gangbangers you ran over, some dudes that I shot in Mexico, Mike, Gale... not to mention whoever has overdosed on our product. Oh, I almost forgot Gus and the wheelchair guy. Those two dudes you shot in the lab before we destroyed it. And Drew Sharp--we were kind of responsible for Drew Sharp."

"Jesse... why are you bringing this up now? To rip my heart out before _I'm_ dead and gone?"

"This is _your_ subconscious, Mr. White. Do you think I _want_ to talk about this? Do you know how screwed up I'm going to be when all of this is over? You're taking the fucking easy way out, yo. You're out of here. I still have to deal with all of this when you're gone."

Walt takes a deep breath. He thought that in some weird way, he had come to peace with all the blood on his hands, but clearly he hasn't. This isn't the time, however. Jesse is still looking at him expectantly, like he's waiting for Walt to say or do something to end this weird fever dream.

"Jesse. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I've dragged you into; I'm sorry for breaking your heart. You don't have to forgive me, but please promise me that you won't let these last two years define your life. Please tell me that you can recover from this. Please."

"Mr. White, how can I possibly make that promise? I can't do it. The only thing I can promise you is that I'll try. I'll always try. Both for you and me. For your memory. For our love." Jesse looks so sincere. His eyes, his crystal blue eyes that Walt has frequently lost himself in, are shiny with tears. 

Walt can't do this anymore. He has to wake up.

"That's all I can ask, Jesse. Thank you. Thank you for everything. Good-bye."

“Good-bye, Mr. White…” 

They try to hug, but they just can't reach each other. 

And everything fades to black.

*****

Walt stirs, waking up from a weird, fitful sleep. He wishes he hadn't woke up--his head is pounding, his ears are ringing, his throat hurts, and he's sweating profusely. Walt rushes to the bathroom and throws up. He knew the effects of the ricin were going to be rough, but this is fucking awful.

When he gets back to the bed, feeling absolutely horrid, Jesse is waiting for him.

“Oh, thank god, you’re still alive,” Jesse breathes, wrapping his arms around Walt. “I just had the weirdest dream, and I was so afraid when I woke up, you'd be...”

"I'm still here." _But I wish I wasn't._ "I had an unusual dream, too. What was yours about?"

“Ah, it was like, I was in my old house eating dinner with my parents, and then you come by to bring me something. I think it was, like, a beaker or something? From your classroom, not our lab. And then I started trying to teach you about covalent bonds. So weird. Whatever, tell me about yours."

“It was about you,” Walt says. “You were _my_ teacher."

"Oh, wow. Like I could ever know more than you about anything."

"Come here. Come closer.”

Jesse snuggles up to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad. Everything’s starting to fade. Please… just be here with me. Please… don’t go away.”

Jesse wraps his hand around Walt's. It's the only comfort Walt can possibly feel.

“Mr. White, you already know I’m not leaving you. We’re partners, right? Fifty-fifty partners.”

“Fifty-fifty partners,” Walt says softly. 

And those are the last words Walter White ever says to Jesse Pinkman.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one. I'll post the last chapter later today, and then we can all hold each other and cry. (Well, not in a pandemic, but like, later.)

_Dear Skyler,_

_If and when you receive this letter, it's because I am dead. I understand that you'll have conflicting feelings about that, and I don't blame you. I, myself, am relieved. It's finally over. The pain I've caused just about everyone who has known me is truly staggering. I'm sorry. That's all I can say, because there is so much to say._

_The one thing I want you to know now, what you _deserve_ to know, is that I did it for myself. No matter how many times I told you I did it for the family--and maybe that's how I justified it for a long time, but now I know the truth--I really did it for me. I was good at it. And... I was alive. _

_I loved you. I loved our family. Thank you for trying to bring me back from the brink. I know you tried; I was the one who failed._

_You do not need to take care of my arrangements. Jesse Pinkman and another associate of mine will handle it. I know how you feel about Jesse, but he was a great comfort to me in the last days of my life. Don't try to look for him, by the way. He is gone._

_Please be well. Please hug Walter Jr. and Holly for me. Please don't hate me forever._

_Love,  
Walt_

**Dear Walter Jr.,**

**I know everything that happened was confusing, and you have every right to hate me. I hope that one day you will understand, at least a little.**

**It was an honor to be your father. You are not only a good person, but you were a good son. You are courageous, intelligent, handsome, funny--you can be anything you want to be. Thank you for taking care of me as best you could.**

**Please take care of your mother and baby sister. I'm not going to say you're the man of the house now because that is trite and stupid. Just do your best. That was always what your mother and I wanted for you.**

**I love you,  
Your father**

_Dearest Holly,_

_You won't remember me, and that's probably for the best. But know that I remember you. My sweet little baby girl, who tried to take my glasses off with your little fingers. I hope you have a good life, I hope all your dreams come true. I'm so proud of you and I always will be. I can't say that I'll be watching over you as you grow up--I'm not sure I believe that--but part of me hopes you will believe that, anyway. That you will come to me when you need me. I hope I will be there._

_I love you,  
Your father_

*****

**Jesse,**

**There is nothing left for us to say, but I wanted you to have something to look back on when you need to be reassured that what we had was real. It was real. Your comfort was the only thing that kept me from falling into oblivion in my last days.**

**Please go to Alaska, please move on, please be the person you want to be--the person you were meant to be. You deserve it.**

**Your love was like a bright light shining on my darkest moments. Thank you. For everything.**

**Love,  
** Mr. White  
(One last time) 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, friends. When I first started this I thought it was gonna be like 8 chapters and I had not planned to make it the most dramatic shit ever, but here we are. These two just give me the feels, what can I say. Thanks for reading!

_Leave it all behind, let the ocean wash it away  
It never was about the money or the drugs  
For you, there's only love  
For you, there's only love_

_It never was about the party or the clubs  
For you, there's only love  
'Cause you're my religion  
You're how I'm living  
When all my friends say I should take some space  
Well I can't envision that for a minute_

_When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray  
Hallelujah, I need your love_

\- Religion - Lana Del Rey -

*****

It is a world where Jesse _did_ meet Walt at the square on that infamous cold day in Albuquerque. 

It’s a world where Walt didn’t have to call Todd and request his uncle Jack’s services in terminating the life of Jesse Pinkman. They didn’t have a shoot-out at To'hajiilee; Hank didn’t die, Marie didn’t wither into a shell of herself, Skyler didn’t pull a knife on Walt and Walt didn’t kidnap baby Holly in retaliation.

Jesse didn’t have to look into the eyes of Walter White only to hear that Walt could have saved Jane, but he didn’t. Jesse didn’t have to silently beg Walt to save his life, or stare out of the back window at Walt, after a thorough and complete betrayal, as the Nazis drove him away from the desert. 

Most importantly, Jesse didn’t have to endure months of torture by said Nazis. He didn’t have to witness the murder of a woman he loved. He didn’t spend what felt like an eternity in a hole in the ground, only let out to make meth for a bunch of twisted psycho fucks. 

The outcome is the same--Walter White is dead and Jesse Pinkman is alive. But at least he doesn’t have the scars to prove it.

FIVE YEARS LATER

The bell on the door dings when he walks in, and the woman at the register is happy to see him.

“Hey, Mr. Driscoll. That new Ryoba Japanese saw you ordered came in. It’s a good looking saw, too. I’ve never seen one of those before--what do you do with it?”

Jesse--or Robert Driscoll, as Lacey knows him--grins. “Oh, good. I’m trying to teach myself Japanese woodworking techniques and the Ryoba is a good one.”

“Oh, yes, just learning Japanese woodworking techniques, for fun, right?”

“Exactly. And Ruth Dodson wants a new bookcase, so I’m gonna use it to make that for her. It’s mostly used for furniture.”

“Well, cool. Let me go get it for you, it’s in the back.”

Jesse nods. He looks around the store to see if there’s anything he needs. Instead, he finds Cameron reading a book in the hammer aisle.

“Hey, bro. Look what I found on my last hike in the mountains.”

Cameron looks up and frowns. “Come on, Mr. Driscoll, I’m reading! Haven’t I told you not to bother me when I’m reading?”

“So sorry, dude. But you’ll like this.”

Jesse takes the penny out of his pocket. Cameron’s eyes get all big, like he can’t even believe it.

“No way, a Lincoln penny! I’ve never seen one of those before.”

“Well, now you can add it to the collection.”

“Cool. Thanks, Mr. Driscoll. You’re a bad ass.”

“I like to think so.”

There’s a myth in Haines, Alaska. Legend says that a rare coin collector moved to Alaska from California and lived in a small cabin for many years; he kept to himself and never bothered anyone. But over time he went a little nuts and he started hiding his collection all throughout Haines and beyond. His coins were worth thousands, it has been said. 

Cameron’s dad told him this story when he was four years old, and Cameron has been on a mission to find all the coins ever since. Jesse finds some from time to time (maybe occasionally, just every now and then, he’ll order a rare coin online and then pretend to find it… maybe) and gives them to Cameron. The 12-year-old kid kind of reminds Jesse of himself, before he got into drugs. His goal in life is to keep that from happening to Cameron. He’s a good kid, but so was Jesse.

“Hey, Mr. Driscoll… guess who was asking my mom about you the other day?”

“Yeah? Who was askin’ about me?”

“Maddie Matthews. She wanted to know if you had come around recently. Should I tell her that you came by?”

Jesse thinks about this. Maddie is a cute girl; dark hair, blue eyes, a great smile. She works at the bookstore; they flirt a little while Jesse looks for books he hasn’t read yet. He’d have a beer with her.

“Yeah… yeah, tell her I came by and I asked about her, too. Thanks, kid. By the way, I got the new X-Box. Come on by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes! There are so many games I want to play! Are you sure I can’t come by tonight?”

“Nah, there’s some stuff I need to do tonight,” Jesse says. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“Okay! Thanks, Mr. Driscoll.” Cameron reaches out and gives Jesse a high-five. Jesse laughs and returns it.

“Here you go, Robert,” Lacey brings out the Japanese saw to Jesse, who holds it like it’s a sacred object.

“Sweet. Thanks, Lacey. I’ll see you soon. You can drop Cam off tomorrow before your class, I’ll be home.”

Lacey gives Jesse a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

Jesse loads the saw into his pick-up truck, where Bonnie, his pitbull, is waiting for him. Bonnie wags her tail when he gets in the truck.

“Hey, girl. Did you miss me?”

Bonnie barks one time, and then licks his cheek.

“Good girl. Let’s go home.”

*****

Ed had not been pleased when he showed up in St. Joseph to find Walt dead and Jesse a sobbing mess of a human being. It was not unlike the day after Jane died--Jesse was so despondent that he could barely breathe, and Ed had to slap him around a bit to bring him back to reality. 

But for the right price, Ed stepped up and took care of everything. He had Walt’s body moved to a local funeral home to be cremated. He made all the arrangements for Jesse’s trip to Alaska; got him a new identity, a new cell phone, even a place to live. Jesse is forever indebted to Ed and the way he took care of Jesse in those first couple of weeks after Walt’s death.

The first year in Alaska was hard. It was actually damn near impossible. Jesse was so achingly lonely; he was so lost and confused. Every day he’d wake up in the small house he was renting and wonder what the hell he was going to do to fill the hours. He wondered if there was any crystal meth in Haines, and if not, maybe he could manufacture some. But that’s not what Walt wanted for him, he knew. That would be, like, fucking up his memory or something. So Jesse took long walks through the Alaskan countryside, breathed in the cold air, became one with nature. That’s what got him through the first year.

The next couple of years, he cautiously made some new friends. He finally started to teach himself woodworking, and he reclaimed his love for drawing. He found Bonnie wandering down the street by the diner he goes to every day for lunch, and took her home with him. She’s not a husky, but she’s the best dog Jesse’s ever had. They are so in tune with each other’s moods and behaviors, it’s amazing and kind of beautiful, Jesse thinks.

Every now and then he’d have a fling. Mostly with girls who go to the community college nearby. For a few months he was having a really nice time with a guy who was in town to take care of his parents’ estate, but when he left, Jesse didn’t miss him all that much. It was nice while it lasted but he didn’t--and doesn’t--get attached. He’s still not ready yet. Maybe someday.

Jesse still lives in the house he first rented, but he’s building a new one nearby. It’s taking forever, but he wants to get it just right. He’s built a nice little business in town, making furniture and such. It doesn’t account for the $50 million he has hidden in a storage shed in his backyard, though.

After some very discreet digging, Jesse found a therapist in Skagway, which is an hour or so from Haines. For an incredibly large sum of money, Dr. Karen Hudson listens to Jesse talk. About everything. He doesn’t hold back. With her guidance and experience and wisdom, Jesse feels as though he is finally healing; from his rough childhood, his drug use, his parents… and, of course, his relationship with Walter White. Oh, they’ve talked about that for hours and hours. Jesse came to realize that yes, of course he did love him, but there were a lot of underlying circumstances as to _why_ he loved a man who had made his life so difficult. 

Now that he has distance from the situation, he mostly just thinks of Walt with a bit of fondness in his heart, and nothing else. And he is very grateful for that. It’s too exhausting to give him more thought than he needs to.

But… tonight is different.

Every year on Walt’s birthday, Jesse allows himself to open the wounds. He allows himself to think of the man who changed his life. For better or worse is anybody’s guess. But he did change it. 

And Jesse remembers it all. Mr. White trying to teach him about particles and shit. Mr. White standing on the stage when Jesse graduated, smiling politely and nodding his head. Falling out of a window and seeing Mr. White in the police car wearing a goofy bulletproof vest. And then everything went into motion from there. Walt in his underwear teaching Jesse how to cook. Cleaning up remnants of a dead body that fell through the ceiling. Their fights, their accomplishments, their fuck-ups, their partnership. 

Their ill-fated, all-consuming love for each other. Walt looking into his eyes while he’s inside of him, claiming Jesse as his own, over and over again. Walt’s sweet kisses that turned Jesse’s stomach to mush. Jesse’s complete devastation when Walt took his last breath and he lost him forever.

Well, not forever, _exactly._ Jesse has Walt’s ashes in a vase on his bedside table. He could put the vase somewhere else, but he figures Walt would be happiest there. Watching over him.

Jesse takes out the letter Walt wrote shortly before his death. Ed _very_ begrudgingly promised to get Walt’s letters out to his family, but Jesse doesn’t know if they ever received them. 

“Here, kid. This one’s for you. I… read it. I don’t know what you boys were up to out here, but… I have a pretty good idea now. Take care of yourself, Jesse. Get some help. You're gonna need it.” 

Jesse was annoyed with Ed’s concern at the time, but again, with some distance, he gets it now. 

He reads the letter again, letting his eyes fill with tears, remembering how he felt when he read it for the first time--

_There is nothing left for us to say, but I wanted you to have something to look back on when you need to be reassured that what we had was real. It was real. Your comfort was the only thing that kept me from falling into oblivion in my last days._

_Please go to Alaska, please move on, please be the person you want to be--the person you were meant to be. You deserve it._

_Your love was like a bright light shining on my darkest moments. Thank you. For everything._

Jesse’s sitting on the floor, head in his hands, letting himself feel everything. Bonnie comes over and sits next to him. He wraps his arms around her. 

Tomorrow, he’ll wake up refreshed, and Cameron will come over; they’ll play X-Box games all day. Jesse will order pizza and they’ll laugh and probably make a lot of fart jokes.

But tonight, he’ll let himself cry. 

Because it was real.

*****

_Everything is bright now  
No more cloudy days, even when  
The storms come, in the eye we'll stay  
No need to survive now_

_You're my religion  
You're how I'm living  
When all my friends say I should take some space  
Well I can't envision, that for a minute  
When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray  
Hallelujah, I need your love_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for your comments and your kudos and for coming along on this journey with me. Also here's yet another shout-out to [Porkchop_Sandwiches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches) for talking it out with me and giving me valuable ideas and advice. Thank youuu. 
> 
> Rock on.


End file.
